The Legend of the Light Warriors
by Day-le-Light
Summary: A novelisation of Final Fantasy I. It has a some humour and a lot of original stuff, but it stays pretty true to the game. There are also references to newer remakes as well such as the Dawn of Souls' new dungeons .
1. Fall of the Lefeinish

Chapter One: Fall of the Lefeinish

The clouds whipped past in a frenzy found only at these heights. The immaculate glass separating them from the limitless sky made it seem as though there was no glass, no separation; it gave Arpa a sense of vertigo, even now. He turned his eyes from the swirling white and soft blue to the large square room he stood in. It was made of smooth metal on the floor and walls, shining beautifully and reflecting the glare of thousands of lights dangling above them; placed in decorated sconces on the walls; sitting on the tables; worn on the ears, necks, and fingers of the people there, in their hairpieces and sewn into their clothes. They were a race of beauty, and revelled in the elegance around them, moving so gracefully as to nearly be floating in a room of polished steel and bronze, gleaming in the light like angels. And the Floating Castle was before him, shining and glorious and new, and the expensive surroundings made him feel magnificent.

Soon, he would be one of those angels, a trained mage with great powers, garnering respect and with gold and silk and diamonds more than any of them. He didn't want the objects for themselves, but to show everyone who had doubted him how great he could be.

And one, more beautiful than any other woman Arpa had ever seen. Her hair was a deep gold, rather dark for them, and fell in thick waves to settle on her lap, clinging to her clothes, strewn around the soft seat on which she sat, one of pillows on an ivory chair. A silver circlet held the bangs out of her eyes, adorned with small lights that surrounded her face with a halo. Her loose blouse and long skirts were of the palest lavenders, blues and greens, nearly white. He stared at her until she looked his way, but when confronted with her dark gray eyes, he felt uncomfortable, and turned away, as he always turned away.

All the people around him were somewhat the same, wearing the finest cloths in the lightest colours, with fair skin and hair, large, pale eyes, delicate features, and gentle movements. The sensual beauty that was the Lefeinish was beyond the understanding of most people, and only they truly saw the rest of the world as bland and dark and colourless as it was. They were the Sky People, chosen by the gods to be superior in every way, to rise above other people in their fortresses hovering in the heavens, and look down upon them in the form of divine protectors. This fortress was their most grand, but soon they would all be like this, and then, only then, when they had fully abandoned Home on Land, would they be the true Sky People.

Arpa felt a sense of quiet come over the gathering. He glanced over at Leina, trying to be discreet, and saw her dismiss the young girls with her. Then she beckoned to him, called him closer. He sat on the cushions at her feet where the young girls had been before, staring at her with such idolatry as to seem more like a young man, no more than a score of years, in the awkward state of infatuation bordering on love than some graceful, beautiful seraphim in the perfection of a statue, like a god, like the idealistic images of Lefeinish found in their Home on Land. Perhaps he should have acted more exalted than he did.

"I feel as though I'm doing you some great injustice," she said, starting as though they were continuing some old conversation, as she usually started. "I shouldn't call you over here...for the reasons I do."

"Why _do _you call me, then?"

"To see your eyes." She must have understood that he didn't know what she meant, for she usually was sparing in her explanations, but she chose to elaborate, "See the way you look at me."

"I look at you as I do all others."

"No. There is adoration in your gaze. Which I don't deserve." Her face had the slightest look of unhappiness, although she kept it respectfully blank, and he couldn't discern what it was that made him think she was sad. "I really shouldn't feel superior to the other girls in the room, just because a mage thinks I'm better than I am. But I do... My pride, I suppose. And you have the same issue as the others: always pretending that you're flawless, so perfect. You come to me every week, and pretend as though you have nothing to say...because you don't want to admit you cannot bring yourself to say it. I think our pride is making us rot away. It is the poison of the Lefeinish. But we're proud enough to let it kill us first, before we admit to imperfection. Perhaps we _should_ stay in our Sky Homes - keep the rot of pride away from the rest of the world."

"I don't–"

"Don't tell me you don't understand." Leina looked over the crowd, seemed disappointed. "Sit by me, so I may look at you."

Arpa knew he should be going to his father. He was about to receive a great honour, the allowance to train in the high magics of a wizard, and would receive the robes with the other students. But he chose instead to sit with her and stare at her. He was entranced by her hands, folded delicately in her lap, and took much effort to look away from her for a moment, to collect his thoughts. Then back to those dark gray eyes, like the clouds in a storm, the angry force behind it, the light veins of colour like the flashes of lightning, as those he only saw when a storm came upon them while they were in their sky fortress, and he would stare out the windows, entranced by the powerful winds. For a moment, he felt as though he could feel that powerful wind, but then nothing.

The night wore on. He saw his father among the people, the look on his face when he found his son, first livid, then confused, and finally calm when he saw who he was with. Arpa thought he almost saw him smile before he slipped back into the crowd. The sky turned dark.

He felt her take his hand, and eventually found himself closer to her, until she was under his arm, her head tucked below his chin. He felt calm, and didn't, at the same time.

Then she stiffened. "What is it?"

"Can you feel it, Arpa? A badness in the air. A wrongness."

It was too quiet. The wind had died. A great shudder ran through the floor, and the air twisted. Arpa felt sick. Many people lost their footing. Then a terrible sound, like nails on a hard surface, and a grating, high-pitched squeal, and a gash was torn into the thick metal walls of the fortress as though it were cheap cloth.

A dragon's head shot through the wall, accompanied by the full strength of winds magnified at such great altitudes. Another head entered by way of the window, the pane shattering and spraying them with the fine grainy fragments of glass that cut Arpa's skin as he tried to wipe it away. A great screech filled the air, and his ears ached. He covered them, and it didn't help.

_"Look at you! Cower!"_ The dragon's voice was booming and sent the air rippling in its wake around them, and the pressure on his face made him close his eyes. Leina screamed. _"You think yourselves so high and mighty? You think you can rope the wind!"_ One of its heads swung towards the great crystal that hung in a glass case. It screeched and a large claw swooped in, shattering the glass casing and grabbing the crystal orb in one movement. Its light shone brighter than Arpa ever remembered it shining. The claw tightened, and the orb snapped. A deep crack spread from one end to the other, and small pieces of it fell from inside – the green shine pulsated quicker, as though it were a racing heartbeat, then it went out. The fortress heaved. _"It's mine now, as the wind always should have been, and you'll never abuse it again!"_

Arpa was overcome with a fear that the fortress would fall. But it stopped in its speedy decline, at least for the moment, hovering in the air, and for once, he felt vulnerable in it. He wanted solid ground.

_"Such stupid angels!"_ came the nasal voice. Another claw struck, and those beautiful people in the corner of the room, who seemed so grand a moment ago, lay broken and slashed, dark blood staining their pale clothes. The Lefeinish wailed, rushing to get to the portal to Home on Land.

The fortress rocked to the side, and hung suspended on a slant, knocking everyone off their feet. Arpa held Leina's hand. She held tight to him, and he watched people tumble before him as he held the pillar that kept them from slipping and going through the window panes, as some did.

"The ocean!" The slant of the windows gave them a view of the shoreline as an impossibly huge wave swept over the land, flooding the forest there to near the tips of its trees and engulfing Home on Land in water.

He held Leina up and got to the other side of the pillar. Funny, that only now could he truly hold her, when he'd never get to do it again. She looked at him, tears reddening her eyelids and cheeks, glistening on her spiky lashes, the loose clothes torn, her hair in tangles. She seemed more beautiful now. He felt her arms around his neck. They clung to each other, and watched more people fall under the vengeful dragon's claws. He kissed her, told her what he could never have said in words, and he couldn't speak now, felt desperate, passionate, more so than he probably ever would have in his whole life.

_"Ha! You shall see the might of my brothers and sister! When we rule the orbs, nature's forces will rule again!"_

The dragon's might crashed down on them, and Arpa looked at the head rushing them, pushed Leina out of the way, and knew she wouldn't catch that wall, that she would slip and go through the open window dangling on its shattered hinges, and join the massacre.

Pieces of crystal were flung out the windows. One fragment caught his eye, a flashing glare from one of the lights reflecting off its only mostly-flat surface, before it twisted and began its spiralling descent, down, down, towards the ground.

The wind orb... No longer airborne.


	2. First Introductions

Chapter Two: First Introductions

_200 years later..._

The morning light filtered through the leaves and left a spotted pattern on the dusty ground. The sun was warm, and the dirt and bark seemed tinted gold, the leaves shining silver-green with the touch of dew still left on their shaded sides. A young man stepped lightly, feeling in tune with nature as he listened to the forest sounds of bugs and rustling leaves. His face was dirty, and his red hair was lightened with dust and windswept.

He crouched to the ground and examined the spot before him, turning to see it in different light. Then he crawled forward a step, to see if the imprints continued. They didn't. The sight of them brought him back to his task, and he felt much less calm. Standing upright, he adjusted his sword belt, rolled his shoulders to resettle his chainmail, and continued down the road, searching for any sign of human passage.

* * *

The figure was quick, hiding between the buildings away from the bright noon sunlight. It took a chance when it saw it, a space in the crowd, and darted. A hand reached out and grabbed the person's shoulder. Two guards stepped up at the insistent calling of the older man, claiming he had caught the thief. Their bronze helms glinted sunlight into the large blue eyes of the criminal, barely visible in a dirty face, under short spikes of unwashed brown hair.

"What's the problem here?"

"This one's been prowlin' 'round the market for a week, keeping 'is eyes open for any who've not got an eye to their purse."

"I didn't do nothing!" the boy yelled, discreetly slipping the coins he'd got to the ground at his captor's feet.

"Alright, now, listen," said one guard, lifting him up. "We've had enough trouble out of you. You come quiet, and there won't be a problem."

"We'll take care of it. You go on with your business." The other guard nodded to the merchant.

The older man _harrumphed _at that, but stalked away.

The boy uttered a few curses under his breath before he was cuffed on the side of the head. "None of that. You're lucky things are as good as they are for you, considering."

"Whatever." He stuck his hands in his pockets and was led out of the market by the guards, one at each side, for the third time that month.

* * *

A shadow moved against the others. Hands as black as ebony and long-fingered, wrong somehow, gripped a tree branch as it watched the passage of two figures. Their cloaks were white and they looked somewhat the same, with similar features and brown-blond hair. The creature's eyes, adept at detecting the smallest bit of light in deep darkness, squinted at the brightness of the scant light of their lantern, but caught at something just peeking out from a fold in one of their hoods.

Earrings on that person's ears, both a similar shape and size, dangling from thin wires, in an oblong shape roughly hacked to flat sides and tapering to points at the ends, one dark, but another bright, clearer and catching the light more easily, reflecting and refracting it and sending the light out in dozens of shades that would have been lost to human eyes. A real crystal earring, with a fake one?

Even this odd creature knew better than to assume that was normal. One of its fingers touched to the crystal shard it carried in one of the many folds of its deep, navy robes. The shard was slightly warm, and its thin, dangerously sharp edges were almost delicate. It wondered if the earring was warm too.

The creature followed them, searching out the brightness of the lantern against the dusky sky.

* * *

It was night now. Stars overhead gave off too little light, and the moon was covered, so they decided to stop. Setting down her things, she felt weary in a way she hadn't for quite some time. Her brother took her back frame. "Go rest. I'll take care of the fire." He pushed her towards the tent, set up, though still needing to be properly tied down.

"I feel bad, letting you do everything."

"You're not used to travelling yet. You'll get used to it."

"Great," she mumbled. She didn't want to think far ahead enough into the future to imagine when she had sloshed through mud in hot summer sun for so long that she didn't mind it anymore. She barely had the energy to drag her bedroll out of its case, then haphazardly threw it around herself and curled into a ball.

Outside, he sat cross-legged by the fire, not wanting to stand just yet, and feeling no reason to rush. A rustle that was out of place caught his attention. "Hey! Go away!" He was hoping the sound of his voice would scare off any animals that would brave the fire. "Go on, now, go!" His yelling seemed to have an effect, until he noticed movement nearby, and behind, and wondered if they were surrounded.

"Rhea! Get up."

"Is something wrong?" She parted the opening to the tent, still on her knees, eyes half-shut.

"Get up, come on, I think there's something out there."

"It's nothing." She waved for him to come inside. "You need to sleep. It's obvious that the reason why you're completely insane is because you travel too much."

A black hand with long fingers reached out of the bushes and settled firmly on its claws on the ground. Rhea shrieked and ducked back into the tent.

"You're gonna leave me here?" He looked over his shoulder and saw a set of legs that looked suspiciously like an imp's. "Come on, they were saying at Pravoka that the imps have been getting a bit feisty lately."

"Take care of it," she called from within.

The first few imps posed little threat. They were weak creatures, with wan brownish skin (not black like that hand at all) and thin clothes, bits of armour scattered over their body for minimal protection. But then he noticed more and more. One wore purple clothes and carried a little spear with a skull hoisted onto it, like a general held a banner, and walked like a leader, ringed by others. "Rhea, we're gonna have to split!"

She left the tent, saw the imps, and ran towards the other side of their clearing. Her scream made him spin. "What's wrong?"

"Have you got a knife? Something? There are more of them." Imps swarmed over their tent, where she had just walked, and filled the trees. Of course neither of them were warriors. She had never before left Melmond, and he fought barehanded, which was fine normally, but the imps' armour was hurting his hands.

They united in front of the tent and stood back to back as imps poured into the clearing around them. "What are we going to do? We can't fight them all," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I don't know. I've never seen a group this big before."

"Then we're gonna have to run through them!" She made a dash for the row of imps before them, but he caught her arm.

"While I admire the audacity of such a plan, that could be a very bad idea." He saw their pile of firewood had been knocked over, grabbed the two sticks closest to his feet, thrust the ends in the fire and handed her one. "Hold it out. I don't think they like fire."

"If I get mauled to death by imps, I'm not going to forgive you."

* * *

The soldier's search had turned up nothing. He could only hope that one of the other soldiers had found something, that someone was on the move to rescue Sara. Their princess had been stolen from them by her own guard; it had been impossible to believe at first, considering Sir Garland's nature. How it was that he thought he would be able to get all of the kingdom's money in payment, and get away with it unharmed, was inexplicable, but it was obvious he was unwell, and they feared for her safety.

Feeling useless, he wandered, keeping his eyes to the ground. But he'd wandered around the area mapped out for him over and over, and had been everywhere. There was nothing new. His eye was suddenly caught by the sight of unusually bright light. Worried something might have caused a forest fire, he parted the branches to his right to see a flood of imps ganging up on two people in foreign-looking clothes and white capes. Each held out a stick lit with flames, and stood near a campfire, but the fire was doing little to keep the imps away, and the creatures looked as though they were going to brave it soon.

He always was the one who liked to save people. So he drew his sword and ran to the clearing.

* * *

She was starting to panic, wondering how much worse it could get once the imps started running by the torches and grabbing at them, trying to drag them away from the campfire. The small knives had already cut thin scratches down their legs, and only a few of the imps were hurt at all. One was dead – her brother had thrown it into the fire, and watching their companion burn up had frightened the imps somewhat – but they were getting bolder, quickly.

Then she wondered what she was seeing when a long blade cut down multiple imps at once before her. Had her brother gotten his hands on a sword? It definitely was a sword, but the young man with tousled red hair and reddish chainmail was also a stranger. The imps were all either dead or fleeing within a minute.

She stood frozen. She didn't know what to say.

It was her brother who stepped forward. "Thank you. That could have gotten very ugly." He didn't think it already had?

"It isn't a problem." The stranger nearly sheathed his sword, noticed that it was dirty, then wiped it on the nearest imp and quickly shook hands with her brother. "I'm Felix," he said.

"Lothar. This is my sister." They both glanced at her, and it took her a second to react.

"Oh, yes. Rhea." She shook his hand as well.

"How is it you managed to get yourselves into such chaos?"

"Bad luck, I suppose." Lothar led Felix to the fire and offered him something to eat. "Rhea, are you going to sit down?"

"Yes..." She walked over and sat on the end of the nearer bench, finding herself beside Felix.

"Who are you?" asked Lothar.

"A Cornelian knight."

"Just wandering the forest for no reason, ready to save any unwitting travellers who happen to find themselves in need of a hero?" Lothar grinned.

"No. For a reason." Felix concentrated on the stew he'd been given. There was little emotion to his voice, she noticed.

"Can I ask...?"

"Have you seen anyone while you were in the forest?"

"No."

"Because I'm looking for someone. A young girl, in the company of a former knight of Cornelia."

"A knight gone bad? Not something you hear of every day."

Rhea decided to interject. "He might not have gone bad. Could he be retired?"

"No," Felix answered. "In Cornelia, knights keep their titles even after retirement. He kidnapped her."

"Oh dear..." she muttered.

"Yes, a very odd turn of events. Not something to be talking about on a first meeting, though. The Cornelian army will get to the bottom of it in the end."

"You seem very confident of that," Lothar remarked. "Although it was never to my knowledge that Cornelia has a lot of experience with these kinds of things."

"Lothar, don't be rude," she muttered.

Felix laughed. "No, it's more of a compliment. It's true, Cornelia doesn't have a lot of crime. But you aren't suggesting we'll be completely useless, are you?"

"It's practise that makes perfect," Lothar said, repeating a phrase that he said often when trying to get her to train with him as he did his exercises and kickboxing routines for his martial arts training. Although it meant something different now.

She sat back and glared at her brother. She hoped he wasn't insulting the soldier. But Felix didn't seem to mind. "Well, I won't be imposing myself on you any longer. I have travelling to do this night, to make it to Cornelia by morning."

"Travelling all night?" she asked.

"Yes." He sighed, then laughed a little. "And then sleeping all day to make up for it. I have to report to the commander."

Lothar stood and shook Felix's hand again. "Hope you find that girl. And thank you again."

"Of course." They seemed odd when they looked each other in the eyes, and the handshake was stiff. She thought she saw some kind of challenge in her brother's eyes. Felix jerked his hand away, nodded to her, and left wordlessly.

"What the hell was that?" she asked accusingly.

"Something about him rubbed me the wrong way."

"You always want to be the hero, for both of us."

"And I wondered why you never learned to take care of yourself...Now I know."

"You just don't like other people jumping in to the rescue."

"That has nothing to do with it." His eyes were unfocused, like he was thinking, which wasn't something he usually did with much effort. And though she normally would have continued to pester him, she felt inclined to leave him alone.


	3. The Quadrin Caravan

Chapter Three: The Quadrin Caravan

Rhea and Lothar arrived in Cornelia the next day to see a crowd surrounding one older man in the red-gold uniform of a Cornelian knight who seemed to be attempting to answer multiple people at once.

"I wonder what the big problem is," she said, amused at the harried looks on the soldiers' faces.

"Cornelia's got its own problems, but let's not get involved this time," he answered, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her away from the crowd and down a quieter side street. "We don't want a repeat of Pravoka."

"We barely got involved in anything there. Besides, it was the only way to catch a ship."

"Whatever." He opened the door to a large stone building and held it for her. Inside what she supposed was the inn a small common room was laid out before her, a few tables strewn about with some people huddled together around them, mostly pulled closer to the right side of the room where a single fireplace burned fiercely against the cold snap of this morning, a premonition of autumn, and a single woman sitting behind the counter at the back, covered in two long fur coats.

While Lothar paid for the room, she pulled the collar of her coat up higher and glanced shyly at the largest group of people present. They were odd-looking, wearing baggy tunics, loose trousers, high boots, and long black coats to their knees. The women didn't wear skirts, and some of the men had hair grown long down their backs, while some of the women's hair was cropped, making it hard to distinguish their genders. The majority of them had swords, but of differing styles, some belted to the hip, some slung over their shoulders, and a few went weapon-less but looked like mages, with long robes over their clothes instead of the black coats. One person turned and saw her, and waved her over with a grin, but she turned away and looked for Lothar, blushing for having been caught staring.

"Come on, I got a room." She followed him past the door and down the hallway where they entered a somewhat spacious room that had had two beds supplied for them. Rhea flopped onto her bed and ignored him as he took some more comfortable clothes behind the dressing screen. Lifting one hand, she touched the earring hanging from her left ear. A vibrant buzz could be felt in her fingers, but she was used to it. She waited until he came out from behind the screen and told her he'd be waiting for her downstairs before she got up and changed into clean clothes, brushed through her hair and braided it, and went back to the common room.

Her brother sat at a table with three of the people in coats, including the one who had waved to her earlier. She pulled up a chair, wishing he'd picked different company.

"Hello." The friendly one who'd waved.

She smiled. "Hello." This person was interesting to look at, with pale skin, silver grey hair to the shoulder blades, cold grey-blue eyes the colour of ice but friendly nonetheless, framed by fine wrinkles that fanned from the corners, and a wide mouth framed by much deeper wrinkles marking the dimples, a sure sign of one who smiled. Their coat was not black like the others', but a bright, fierce red. She was surprised, though, when she wondered whether this was a man or a woman and realized that she couldn't tell. She let her gaze graze over their body, attempting to see gender somewhere, but saw instead just a long body of slim build, a bit tall for a woman, a bit short for a man, and couldn't see if they had any breasts or not through the thick wool of their long coat. Looking up, she was treated with a very bright smile – they knew her dilemma, and others probably had the same confusion. She felt more comfortable, though, now that they smiled.

"I'm Vieno." Again, androgynous, the voice neither deep nor high. And a unisexual name.

"I'm Rhea."

"Yes. We've spoken to your brother."

"Really?"

"Are you from Melmond?"

"Did he say something?"

"No. I can just tell." Rhea lifted her eyebrows, wondering what had given her away so easily. "The way the stitching was done on the hem of the capes you wore when you first came in is a Melmond thing. Olive skin tone with blond hair isn't found everywhere, either. Your ring has an insignia on it. You've braided your hair with four strands, which they do there. And only Melmondans would be stupid enough to wear white travelling capes."

"...Right." She looked up at the innkeeper, the woman from behind the counter, who asked if she wanted something to eat or drink. "Uh, maybe, yeah..." She felt in her pockets and found them empty.

Before she'd even said anything about it, Vieno answered, "I'll buy her dinner."

Rhea blushed, assumed Vieno might be a man, then, and hoped he wasn't flirting with her. But something about that didn't seem quite correct. When the woman left, Rhea looked back at him; she didn't know what to say to keep the conversation going, though she wanted it to. "You...pay attention to the hemming on people's capes...?"

"Oh, yeah. I knit, and sew, and things in my spare time. Between fencing practise, and reading, and riding for hours on end with these guys." He nodded his head towards the others with him.

"Who are you guys, anyway? What do you do?"

"We're a caravan. Merchants, pretty much."

"A caravan...with a uniform?"

"It's not a uniform. These coats are just really good for winter weather, and they come in black. I got mine dyed red. I like red. I even got a matching hat."

She smiled. Lothar turned to them and said, "Rhea, I'm going to go upstairs. I'll be there when you come up."

"Alright, bye."

"So, tell me what you're doing here." Vieno leaned forward, chin in hand, as the innkeeper brought a bowl of stew to Rhea and asked if Vieno would like anything. "I'd like something to drink. Do you drink?"

"Not usually. But I'd like a tea, though." She glanced up at the woman behind her, who nodded and left.

"Well? What are you guys doing here?"

"It sounds so silly... You won't believe me – it's crazy."

"I believe lots of crazy stuff. Try me."

"My brother and I were actually born somewhere else – I don't remember where, somewhere far to the north. Our mother was a travelling healer. After our father died, she came back to Melmond and raised us in the church. When the church burned down, she died, along with a few other people who lived there. Lothar was kind of quiet and restless ever since. One of the people at the church there was a prophetess, and she spoke about prophecies like the Light Warriors a lot. We probably know more about it than most people. And my brother got this idea that we should go looking for them. I think he just needed to get away from home."

"So how long have you two been travelling around?" Vieno took a sip from a glass in his hand and she realized her tea was there. She drank some without checking it and scalded her tongue, but she didn't really care.

"A few months."

"Getting here must have been a pain, what with the collapsed bridge and all that."

"Yeah. We boarded a ship in Pravoka. Well, actually, we kind of stole it, but..."

She was surprised at herself for letting that slip out, and wondered what Vieno would say. He was silent for a moment, then he burst out laughing. "You stole a ship? That's one of the few things I _haven't_ done." Then, more seriously, "I wonder why I haven't, yet. It would sure be convenient."

"It was more like stealing it _back_. Pravoka's been having trouble with pirates, stealing ships and stuff–"

"Like you two?"

"No. That ship was stolen from its crew. We helped steal it _back_ and then we didn't have to pay for the ride."

"Well, good on you. Kill anyone?"

"Of course not," she growled indignantly.

"Joking." He finished his glass and shook his head when the innkeeper offered a refill. "I'm hearing you came here to see Lukahn."

"Yes."

"He's not here anymore."

"Oh. Where did he go?"

"I don't think he told anyone – just said something about finding the crescent moon. Maybe it's a treasure or something. He might not have even known. They get those Visions."

"And follow them blindly."

"That's the way of the prophet," he joked. "Blindest people in the world – and they have a second sight."

"I don't think my brother will be too happy to hear that."

"There are other prophets here. I'm sure one of them can tell you something."

After a short while, Rhea said, "Well, I should probably go up and see Lothar now."

"Alright then." He stood up with her and the innkeeper came and collected the cups and empty bowl. Rhea took his hand, shook it, and left.

* * *

When Lothar had come down he'd scouted through the room trying to find someone who might know where Lukahn lived. A friendly older woman had informed him that Lukahn wasn't here anymore, but gave him an address anyway, where Lothar might find those Lukahn had lived with.

"Lukahn the prophet," a voice mused. "What would you need him for?"

Lothar turned and saw a set of tables, at least five, filled with people mostly in black coats, and armed. The one who'd spoken sat a few feet away from him. Their silver hair was long and wavy, and their coat, though of a similar style, was bright red. The sword at their side was small and inconspicuous, hidden by a fold of red in the long coat, the end of the scabbard just peeking from the hem.

"I have a question to ask him, of the Light Warriors."

"Is that so," they asked dryly. "I'm a traveller. I've heard of the Light Warriors, but it was my understanding that most people thought it was nonsense."

"I don't think it's nonsense."

"Of course you don't. Who travels so far to speak to a man about something they think is nonsense?"

"Can I sit with you?"

One of the people at that table pulled out a chair, and he sat down. She smiled at him. He smiled back, surprised at how pretty she was. She had short, spiky blond hair, an upturned nose, and wore bright colours under her black coat, the collar of a turquoise shirt visible between the undone buttons of the coat, yellow breeches, green boots, and ruby earrings. The hilt of her sword was painted in many colours. "I'm Saundra."

"Donatien." The dark man sitting with them, wearing dark colours of burgundy and grey, his long, curly, grey-streaked black hair tied back in a ponytail. He shook Lothar's hand and smiled at him, but there was something sad in his eyes.

"Vieno." The one in red. Lothar stared at Vieno, confused, unsure, uncomfortable. He couldn't tell if Vieno was a man or a woman, and he didn't want to insult them. Vieno stared at him, apparently waiting for a response, and prompted one with, "So what's your name, oh handsome, silent one?"

_Handsome?_ Well, Lothar doubted a man would say that, so Vieno must be a woman, then. He felt a little more comfortable, with the answer. And she really did look like one, with her hair the way it was, and her eyes. "Lothar. My sister Rhea and I have come looking for the Light Warriors, and since Lukahn was the first to foresee them, we thought it made sense to come here."

"It's too bad he isn't here. Will you be speaking to the other prophets?" asked Saundra.

"I guess. It would be helpful if one of them knew where Lukahn went."

"That's your sister, right?" Saundra nodded to Rhea coming into the room. "I saw you two come in together."

"Yeah, that's Rhea."

Rhea sat down beside Vieno, who turned towards her and said, "Hello."

"I think I heard something about the prophets at the church," Saundra continued. "They were going to look for Lukahn. But with the trouble everyone's been having with ships, it would be hard to find him."

"Yeah, I guess so."

The conversation went on a little. Saundra knew a lot, so she could answer almost any question aimed at her. Donatien was silent most of the time, though he would nod or agree with her occasionally, maybe just to show he was really listening.

"Well, we probably won't be staying for very long, but hopefully we'll run into each other again before we go."

"It was nice meeting you." Saundra shook his hand emphatically.

Donatien gave his hand what was more like a quick tug, said, "Bye," and nodded.

Vieno was talking. "...I even got a matching hat." Just like his sister, to be talking fashion, he supposed.

"Rhea," he said, getting her attention. "I'm going to go upstairs. I'll be there when you come up."

"Alright, bye." She looked back at Vieno as though he wasn't there. Lothar sighed. Vieno caught his gaze. She nodded to him, gave him a wink as if to say that most people were so awed by her, and went back to talking to his sister.

It was a long wait until Rhea walked into their room. She sat back on her bed with a sigh, then began to unlace her boots.

"You spent quite a while talking to Vieno."

She seemed uncomfortable at his pointing this out. "Yeah, well, he was nice."

He looked up from the map he was glancing at and asked, "He?"

"Was Vieno...not...?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't know. I just kind of assumed."

"So did I."

They were silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Oh well." Changing the subject, he said, "It doesn't really matter. Lukahn isn't here, so I don't think we'll be staying for very long."

"There's no one else we can talk to?"

"We'll see. I've got his address, so maybe someone there can tell us something. For now, I think we should just sleep." They took turns changing behind the screen, then Rhea pulled the bed sheets up to her chin and wondered about Vieno, until she fell asleep.

* * *

Dimas was sure to keep very quiet. The scant light in his cell meant that he couldn't see what he was doing very well, and if he made a sound and got caught he'd lose his only pick. It wasn't even a pick, really – just a piece of wire from the black necklace he wore, twisted and folded over to strengthen it, as he turned it this way and that in the hole. He was twisted around, the only way to fit his arm through the space between the bars and give it enough room to reach the lock, which was low down, meaning he wasn't standing straight, and his back was on fire. Gritting his teeth, he gave one last flick and felt the lock slip out of place. Carefully, he pulled it down to undo it, because if he moved it without opening it, it could lock again, and he would have to start over.

Slipping the piece of wire into his boot and standing straight, he looked both ways and swung the door out quickly so it wouldn't creak on its hinges. The lightest whine escaped it. Then he bolted, and even the light tapping of his soft leather soles on the flagstone seemed too loud.

It was too easy. Outside, the moon gave off the only scant light, apart from the torch in the hand of an approaching guard.

His heart beating hard enough he could feel it in his throat… crawling on all fours towards the crates, clambering over one, and landing on the ground behind the pile… feeling the roughness of dried out, dying autumn grass on his splayed fingers, still on the ground, hearing the footsteps of the guard… the soreness of his muscles, throbbing in his back as he crouched lower trying to remain in the crates' shadows. The creak of the door as the guard entered the prison. Did he suspect? The door closed again.

Fearful, Dimas looked over the crates, didn't see the guard and assumed he must have gone inside, so he bolted. He headed straight for the tree line that hugged the city wall both inside and out, and once there, followed it to the gate. Then he was climbing a wall of rough stone, getting towards the roof, where he would jump onto the wall and then to a tree on the other side… Freedom was very close.

He grabbed a windowsill and his fingers grazed the cool glass. The window, unlatched, creaked open at that light push, and he froze. Then, thinking better, he dashed upwards, caught sight of an older woman inside with silver hair twirl and see him, though she didn't come after him, then he was on the roof, and the wall. The tree below him was close enough.

He jumped, grabbed the rough branch, and felt some of his skin scrape on the rough bark, but then he jumped to another branch, then the ground, and he was running, running, away from the city lights.

* * *

The creature hissed. Those imps had come upon it, when it was so close to those two...

Navy robes swaying as it flew through the night like a wraith, nearly invisible in the darkness. The rain started, but it ignored that. When the ground got soggy, and its feet muddy, it jumped into a tree, not wanting to dirty its robes. Then it swung from tree to tree, gripping the branches easily. The wind rushed by, and it could have been floating. Hard drops of water smacked its robes as it flew.

Then the sight of something different. A blaze of glaring light. Perhaps not so bright, but to this one, yes. It hung suspended from a branch by one of its arms, dangling, uncertain of what it should do. The colours, though: reds, oranges and a flare of gold dominated, but when the light was seen through the falling rain, the creature saw flashes of violet and green, blues, blazing then gone, like through twirling diamonds. And the creature that lived mostly in a world of darkness was drawn to the beautiful colours that showed their true forms only in the world of light.

It dropped from the tree and hit the wet ground with a splash, robes and feet now forgotten. Creeping forward, it gazed at the blazing fire, though it hurt its eyes, and the beautiful creature of light that sat before it in dirtied white shirt, torn leggings, and worn leather boots with frayed laces, with messy brown hair, skin deeply tanned by the sun, the glorious sun…

The creature thought of the sun with such longing. And it sat there all night, content to watch the beautiful man with his magnificent, beautiful fire.


	4. Awakening of Destiny

Chapter Four: Awakening of Destiny

"I foresee the ruin of the people. The wind will die. The seas will rage. The very earth will rot. And a darkness will shroud the world."

- The Prophetess Elzeiah,

From the **Book of the Prophets**

"Now the Age of Ruin has come. But as the great darkness spreads to engulf the world, be hopeful: four Warriors of the Light shall appear."

- The Prophet Lukahn,

From **The Writings of Lukahn**

Rhea put down the book in front of her, glanced past rows of bookshelves in the warm, stuffy library, and looked at Lothar. An older woman sat beside him, her curly gray hair pinned up, her hands tucked into the folds of her habit.

Lothar looked at the woman, named Maia, and asked, "So the light warriors don't have to search for the crystal hearts – they'd already have them?"

"Yes, they should have them in their possession."

"I wonder why they haven't shown up yet," he muttered.

"Others have searched for them, but most have given up," she told him. "We'll just have to keep hoping."

Outside, Rhea saw a group of people in black coats surrounding a caravan and loading it. The word 'Quadrin' was printed on its side. The red coat was easy to pick out from the crowd.

"Hello there." Vieno hefted a large crate, bending their knee to hold it up while they got a better grip. "Out visiting people?"

"Lukahn's partner," Rhea answered.

"Did she have anything to say?" Vieno pushed the crate into the caravan and got out of the way of those behind them. "Or he – I shouldn't just assume." It was generally common for a male and female prophet to partner together in their visions, as well as marriage.

"No, she didn't have much. Just that they would have the crystal hearts on them, but no other way of knowing who they are, or where they could be…" Rhea almost forgot that Vieno hadn't heard the entirety of the conversation.

But they understood what she meant just fine. "Crystal hearts, eh? Maybe you could open a store, pretend to be jewellers that buy used jewellery."

Lothar grinned. "Yeah."

"You guys look like you're getting ready to leave," Rhea commented.

"Just putting away a few things we've bought. I don't know much about the buying and selling, really. I'm just a guard."

"Did Vieno tell you about what happened last night?" It was Saundra.

"Oh, no. What happened?" Lothar asked.

"Nothing much. I saw someone outside my window last night. He was climbing the wall, probably trying to get to the roof. He didn't bother me, though."

"Hmm. That's weird."

"Did you hear of the princess?" It was Donatien, and Lothar was surprised – he thought it might have been the first sentence the man had spoken in his presence.

"Oh, Rhea, you haven't been introduced to these two yet, have you? This is Saundra, and Donatien. This is Rhea," Vieno told the two. Donatien nodded, and Saundra greeted her loudly.

"What about the princess?" Lothar asked.

"She's been kidnapped by her guard," Saundra said. "They just got a ransom note the day before yesterday. He's asking for everything the kingdom has to offer."

"Oh, my gods, that must be the girl Sir Felix was talking about," Rhea muttered.

At the mention of Felix, her brother frowned. "Right. That guy. He was looking for her."

"And now the king is talking of Light Warriors," Saundra said, looking at Lothar expectantly. "He thinks they will come save Sara."

"Oh, yes, because _Lukahn told him so_," Vieno grinned. "I hope for Sara's sake that he's right."

Lothar and Rhea were walking back to their room when a shriek split the air. It was near the city gates, and the guards lay on the ground, injured. Three large horses trampled the ground, shaking their heads, nostrils flared, ears back, the whites showing in their eyes. A toddler was crouched to the ground, dangerously close to the wild beasts' fleeting hooves.

One man tried to grab a horse around the neck and was dragged until he fell to the ground, clutching bruised ribs. The baby let out a little wail. Everyone else hung back, too afraid to approach the wild animals.

Then an odd creature came creeping towards the scene from the city-kept road that cut through the wilderness beyond the walls. It was a cloud of navy robes, feet visible beneath the hem, thin and bony with long appendages and fully furred. The pattern that travelled up its legs was black stripes on brown.

A silence fell over the crowd. The wild horses stopped, one hoof an inch from the toddler's tiny hand.

The creature lifted one claw-hand – it stood on two legs, but it couldn't be human – and a blast of fire exploded from it, snaking through the air and twisting around to catch on a horse. And then chaos erupted.

Another blast of fire and the creature rushed forward, claw flashing to finish the animal off. It grabbed the baby, pulled it close, and the child was hidden in the folds of its baggy robes.

"No! It's got my child," one woman shrieked. Guards rushed forward, spears aimed at the blue robes. The fire flew outwards in a circle, licking at a second horse's heels.

Something seemed wrong. Rhea took a step forward, but Lothar's hand held her, restrained her.

As the second horse fell, the creature turned to face the last, holding out a clawed hand to ward it off, the flames starting, the guards rushing, and a child's cry rising, she realized what was wrong.

"No, stop!" She tore herself from her brother's grasp, ran to the creature in blue, rushed to get between it and the guards. "Don't kill it!"

The guards tripped and knocked into each other as they pulled up their spears, trying not to hit her. And a weak whinny behind her told her the last horse was dead.

"What are you doing?" The woman who screamed was the mother. "Get out of the way!"

"It saved him," Rhea snapped indignantly. Her brother stared at her, looking disbelieving. Vieno and some of the caravaners were also in the crowd, a drawn sword in Vieno's hand. They put the sword back into their scabbard.

Rhea turned and saw the creature reach into its robes, pulling out the baby. It held the boy out, the child dangling from his shoulders, and passed him to Rhea. She held the baby uncertainly, carrying the baby to his mother.

She found herself rushing back to the odd creature, and when it slumped, hit the ground, first on knees, then lying flat, she gasped, got down and wrapped her arms around it. Blood seeped from one sleeve and when she tried to lift it, found it very light considering its size, but too big for her alone. She shook with nervous energy.

Lothar grabbed the creature's legs, and then Vieno gently put Rhea aside and lifted its upper half from the shoulders. They headed for the inn.

* * *

Rhea had rushed to the Bright temple and learned a Cure spell. She'd always been told she had an aptitude for healing like Lothar, as they'd inherited it from their mother, but she'd always avoided magic. Something about it reminded her of her mother, and brought painful memories. And Lothar never bothered to learn, either, though they were both old enough now.

At the inn, she cast the spell, then put her knowledge of herbs and natural techniques to work, putting poultice on the injuries found on the furred torso, wondering how such deep cuts had come about, then bandaged them. The creature opened its eyes and hissed at the lamp.

"I need to keep it lit, to work on you." She got an idea. Not wanting to scare or confuse it, she took a cloth and slowly draped it over its eyes. It calmed soon after that.

She entered the common room and saw her brother. "Um, I'm done, and I think it's sleeping."

"Okay, I'll be up in a minute."

"Goodnight, Rhea," said Vieno.

She walked into the room and saw the creature up, walking around, holding the lamp above its head in what appeared to be an attempt to light its path without seeing the direct flame. "Oh! Hello."

The creature spun to face her. A hood covered its face in shadow, but its eyes glinted, just like those of a cat or dog. It stood stock still for a few moments, then waddled away behind the bed nearest the window.

"No, no, don't be scared." She walked over to it and put a hand on its head. "I'm Rhea."

The creature began a garbled set of sounds that must have been a language, so at least it could talk. But it didn't sound like any language she'd heard. When it stopped, she tapped her own chest and said, "Rhea. Rhea." Then she tapped its chest, away from the injuries, and looked at it expectantly. It flinched at the touch, probably out of surprise, but didn't try to run away.

"Loki." Then it swayed back and forth a bit in what looked like confusion, shaking its head. It muttered a few more things under its breath.

Lothar entered the room and closed the door quietly. "Hey," he whispered.

"Loki, this is Lothar. Lothar." She tapped Lothar on the chest.

"Lothar…Rhea." Its voice was gravelly, a deep, guttural growl, but their names were recognisable, unmistakable.

"Here." She took the lamp and covered it. "You should lie back down." She led it to a bed and settled the creature in. Then she took the lantern and snuffed the flame.

* * *

That night, Rhea woke with a start and turned over. A jewel was clutched in the creature's hand, and it sat up, awake, staring at it as the gem, set into a pendant, glowed green. She saw a light on her bedside table and looked at it to see one of her crystal earrings glowing a gold shade. She looked around the room and saw Lothar sitting up in the chair by the desk, there not being enough beds, and staring. "Rhea…" he muttered.

"What? This means nothing," she lied.

"Rhea, you and Loki…are Light Warriors."

She glanced at Loki for confirmation, saw only its animalistic eyes reflect the moonlight back at her.


	5. The Four Together At Last

Chapter Five: The Four Together At Last

Loki peered into the darkness, past the bright glare of moonlight reflecting off a glass window pane, then pushed its brooch, set with a crystal heart, against the glass, as it had been doing all night. It hadn't been sure if its plan would work, but the reddish glow was obvious and it felt some satisfaction at it. It rapped gently on the glass, then less gently when no answer came. A man's voice could be heard inside.

But the man opened the door to the hallway. Irritated, Loki banged on the window. Inside, the man spun, then yelled and fell back at the sight of Loki.

Loki was getting a bit annoyed. It clung to one brick protruding from the wall as a windowsill, dangling a few stories off the ground – its fingers were getting cramped in the cool night. It held up its still-glowing brooch so the human could see, hoping he might understand that this was not a monster hanging out his window.

The man seemed confused, then looked to the longsword leaning against the wall, the crystal pommel gleaming red and setting off the other gems set in the hilt. He picked up his sword, then slowly approached the window, unlatched it and opened it.

As soon as he reached out, Loki dropped to the ground, bringing its brooch with it. Just before it hit the ground, the crystals, no longer close enough to react to each other, went out. The man disappeared back into his room.

Loki ran for a ways, but slowly – it needed a head start if it was going to outrun this man, but it wanted to make sure the human gave chase. When it saw the front door of the barracks open, a red-haired head stick out, it dashed.

Perhaps Loki did not have much energy, but it was fast enough. It knocked at the inn door and sidled past the chubby innkeeper when she opened it. Then it crawled up the staircase and entered the room where the two fair-haired humans slept. However, both of them were sitting up now.

"Loki!" Rhea got up and walked to it, one of her earrings glowing gold as she neared. Loki felt a flash of heat from the fold of cloak that held the brooch. "Where have you been? I was worried."

A loud bang on the door.

Lothar opened it cautiously. "Oh. Um, hello."

The young man walked in, hair tousled from sleep, sword drawn, confused. "Sir Felix?" asked Rhea, glancing over Loki's shoulder.

Felix pointed at Loki. "This… one, it was outside my window."

"Oh, no." Lothar, muttering. "Look at the sword, Rhea." Now the humans saw the glow of the crystal as well.

"Yes. I think this creature did that."

Rhea led Felix to a corner, looked to Lothar and said, "I'll tell him."

When the tale was done, Felix stood staring for a moment, seeming disbelieving, his ginger eyebrows high on his pale skin. "So there is a fourth…? But then where is he?" Felix's eyes travelled to Lothar.

"It's not me. Trust me, I've gone through all my things. Nothing glows." Lothar seemed disappointed.

"I wonder. There are so many people in this city," Felix muttered.

* * *

Rhea stood uncomfortably outside the door as the sound of locks came from inside. It opened a crack, one pale blue eye peeking out, then closed as Vieno removed the chain, opened it wide, "Come in, come in."

Rhea walked in and saw a trunk painted in many colours thrown open at the foot of a slightly messy bed, clothes draped over both arms of the chair. "I apologize for the mess, wholeheartedly."

"No, it's okay. But I'd like you to do something for me. It's not much."

"Anything, I'm sure, my dear."

"I need you to go through your things and see if you have anything made of crystal – and see if it glows."

"I think I would know if I had anything like that." Still, Vieno lifted one of their bags and rooted through it. "And I'm not much of a jewellery person."

"It wouldn't glow unless I was here."

"Are you special?"

"Not me. This." Something about Vieno seemed honest, so genuine, and she felt she could trust them. So she told them about the crystals.

"You think you guys are Light Warriors?" Rhea braced herself for laughter. "I suppose you could be. Something about you does seem above all this. Like the ladies in legend who are just destined for so much more."

Rhea found herself blushing and then they both rummaged through some of Vieno's things – rings mostly; bits of gold; chains; scraps of lace, blues and purples; some jewels; daggers with crystal pommels, gilded hilts and gems set into the scabbards…

"Where did you get all this?" Rhea asked.

"Travels. I pick up old treasures from the ruins I go through. I used to be a bit of a treasure hunter before I became a guard."

"None of it's reacting." Rhea was disappointed. She would have liked to have had Vieno with them.

A hand on her shoulder made her look up. "Cheer up; it's for the best. I would make an awful hero."

"I don't think so. But thank you. I've made a mess of all your things."

"Don't worry about it. There's no order to all this anyway." They started putting things away, then held up one of the fancy daggers. "Do you want a knife?"

"No, that's okay, but thanks." Rhea got up and shook out her clothes from dust – it seemed Vieno didn't take out their things very often.

"No problem." She was led to the door, where Vieno bowed. "Give my regards to the other Light Warriors."

* * *

Felix stood on guard on one of the streets, as he normally did. He knew he would have to give up his old job eventually, but he felt too silly to mention it to the king until they had at least found the fourth Warrior. He figured that there was no need to go looking for him – or her – because Felix believed in fate as much as the next, which was a lot in a religious land like Cornelia, and thought fate would eventually unite them all the same. So he was making their money.

As it turned out, fate wouldn't betray Felix, because surely there could be no other explanation, other than sheer luck, for why he would just happen to be staring off blankly in the opposite direction of most people (which he'd been trained not to do), at the correct time to see the flash of bright blue light.

Again doing what he'd been trained not to do, he dashed off, leaving his post, so everyone around him assumed some crime was being committed too terrible to be left alone to call for help. They yelled and jumped out of his way, and a pair of bright blue eyes caught his, shocked, but determined, and the tall, slim youth turned and bolted.

Felix gave chase. Despite Felix's much heavier build, the young man's lack of armour gave him an advantage. Felix fumbled at straps, undoing his armour until the breastplate fell off, followed by his tossing aside his helmet, and finally losing his sword belt, unclasping the buckle and leaving it to lie in the street, yet another procedure foiled – do not ever leave your weapon unattended for someone else to get. He was definitely going to get fired.

_You don't think about things like that when you're chasing destiny!_ Felix told himself. He finally caught up with the runaway, clamping his still-armoured hands around a thin waist and they tumbled to the ground together. Luck intervened again, as the leather of the other man's belt was caught on a rough edge to the metal gloves Felix still wore just as the other man nearly jumped away.

"Get off! I ain't done nothing."

"Shut up. I need you to come with me."

No self-respecting commoner with regular run-ins with the law just went off with a guard as they were told. They wrestled, Felix got a bloody nose for his efforts, and only by sitting on the boy's back and tying his hands together with a green bandanna swiped from the boy's own head did they manage to calm down, panting from the effort with Felix on the ground next to his captive and a lot less swearing than would be expected, mainly because they were out of breath.

"That crystal on your neck –"

"It's mine!"

"It's magic."

"It's still mine."

"I know it's yours. Look." Felix reached for his blade, only to remember he didn't have it with him, thereby ending the lack of profanity. "If you come with me, I can introduce you to someone who has one like it. They'll react to each other."

"Nuh uh. Only them fabled crystals do stuff in certain ranges. It's normal crystal."

"I don't think it is." He jerked the man up and began leading him to the inn.

* * *

Dimas had never been good at first impressions. Felix didn't trust him from the start, because he looked like trouble, and people who ran from guards were not to be trusted under any circumstances, as far as he was concerned. Rhea had held her hand out to shake when they'd exchanged names, and he'd kissed it instead. They had no way of knowing that he didn't mean anything by it, though he did think she was exceptionally beautiful, so Rhea was embarrassed and Lothar gave him a look that made Dimas a little relieved when he heard he wasn't one of the Warriors as well.

Loki, however, had come up to him when he was sitting by the fire, sat down crossed-legged, and snuggled up to Dimas' legs, which made the young pickpocket a bit uncomfortable. By the end of the night, the others were discussing what they should do first, even Lothar, who wasn't one of the Warriors, but was understood to be coming with them (much to Dimas' distress - he didn't need another one who didn't like him), and Dimas stayed out of it, content to sit back and stroke the furry creature's head and shoulders as though it were a friendly cat, glad to have someone who liked his presence.

Felix finally turned to them. "What's for the morrow, then?" Dimas asked, unable to contain his curiosity anymore.

"Preparing to head out. And then we're going to see the king."


	6. Preparations

Chapter Six: Preparations

Dimas shifted uncomfortably as they neared the throne room. His hands were shoved into his pockets, so the guards wouldn't think he was trying to steal anything, and Loki followed. A straw hat of the kind worn by farmers was pulled down over Loki's head to protect its sensitive night sight, and deep shadows were cast over its furry face – only its eyes glinted through the darkness there, so people passing by normally didn't give it too much notice, unless they saw its feet. As it was, Loki refused to wear boots or leave Dimas' side, one clawed, furry paw-hand clamped around one of the youth's arms, and the guards refused to let Dimas in, so neither of them bothered, staying in one of the grand halls instead.

Felix, Rhea and Lothar walked up towards the throne, where the king sat. He looked stressed and tired, more gray in his beard than Felix remembered when he saw him only a few months before, and exhausted eyes. "You are the ones claiming to be the Four Warriors of Light? I see only three of you." The chancellor, a puffy old man with too-small spectacles and a short ponytail, dressed gaudily in burgundy velvet, gave them a disbelieving look.

"Two of the Warriors have remained outside," Felix said. It had been decided that he would do the talking, being more familiar with Cornelian customs. "Rhea and I here," he gestured to her, "are the other two. This here is Lothar, Rhea's brother."

"Lukahn told me the Four Warriors of Light would rescue Sara in her time of need. Where have you been?" The king sounded unimpressed with them, and had made no sign of ever hearing their names.

"Astray, but we are here now, Your Majesty." Felix could think of no real explanation.

"Hmm. If you are who you say you are, you can help Sara. If you bring her back, I will accept who you say you are... and then help you however I may."

"But Your Majesty, they have no proof," muttered the chancellor.

"I don't care if they have proof," the king admitted. "I do not believe it is coincidence that they come now, when we have called off our recent efforts to find her. I just want my daughter back."

The chancellor sat stiffly, now silent of his previous mutterings.

Felix bowed, and Lothar followed, Rhea sketching out an awkward curtsy.

Dimas was unimpressed with the news. "That's it? We jes' go 'n find this 'ere princess and what? They don't know where she is? They can't give us any help?"

"We're the Light Warriors – it's our chance to prove ourselves."

"Are we ready?"

"We should be. Maybe Rhea could learn a few more spells, since she seems to have an aptitude for them." Felix looked at her hopefully.

Rhea nodded. "Sure." She had gotten over her aversion to healing while caring for Loki, and thought she might understand finally why her mother had felt so called to it.

"And Dimas, can you use a sword?"

"You could teach me."

Felix nodded, though he seemed a little disappointed. "Yeah, of course." Then he turned to Loki. "I wonder about you," he told it. Loki stared back and didn't respond. "It doesn't matter. We'll work on everything today, and go tomorrow."

Everyone agreed.

* * *

Rhea practised her magic with the temple healers, and was impressed with herself. They were impressed as well. "Cornelia isn't a city of much magical training," the oldest woman told her. "You've got talent, but you'll have to go somewhere else to practise it. We can't teach you much here."

Rhea had been surprised when they'd suggested the enchantment Dia. Felix had said to Rhea that north was where Garland had probably brought Sara, and undead creatures and beings of the darkness dwelled in the north, near the Temple of Fiends, they told her. It had been a temple to worship the dark forces before Cornelia had strayed from that path and gone to the Light Way, the religion that taught of healing and purity. However, across from the Bright temple was the Shades temple, as some of the city's people still worshipped the fiends. All over, people still had Shades temples, but they were generally hidden from view, or avoided as the dwelling of the worshippers of evil; good honest people were never seen entering, or it would be scandal to their names. The priests within were said to have revenants that worked with them, to practise necromancy, and other such things. It was a wonder that the Temple of Fiends, a similar place, was still standing, but it was a place that was older than Cornelian history, and people were too afraid to go near. So get the Dia chant, they'd said, there are dark things there and you'll need it.

* * *

Loki had been drawn to the Shades temple the moment it set eyes on its dark grey stone and old-fashioned architecture of arches and spires. It placed its hands on the dark wooden door, felt its solidity as it pushed, and entered the place of shadow.

The priests and priestesses were not as people thought. It would be a frightening place to many in Cornelia, no doubt – gargoyles' faces leered at you, illuminated from below by candles burning a strong incense; shadow lay undisturbed in hidden corners; the grills around the glass of the lamps cast bars of light eerily swaying across the walls to the flicker of the flames; the decorations on the wood benches and the sconces were carved in black metal in curls that ended on sharp points – but it did not appear to be a place of evil. The people that looked up at Loki were dressed regularly, not even in robes, but uniformly in dark colours.

Loki stopped in front of a woman and stretched out its arm. A shot of flame spurted out, but it did not burn her. She jumped, then after examining her arm, looked at Loki interestedly. "Do you... come seeking training?" Loki understood much more of the language than it could ever pronounce, and it nodded its head. "I see." She looked to an older man beside her, staring up from his book with amazed eyes. He wouldn't have looked more surprised if one of his patron spirits had come knocking on his door.

"Is that... a Pelenor?"

"A what?" She did not appear as surprised.

Loki only stood and waited.

* * *

"Hold out your arm."

Dimas did as he was told while Felix held up wooden swords next to his arm. "This one looks good. You should train with this." The guard tossed the sword to Dimas.

Dimas swung it back and forth a bit. Felix went to buy swords with real edges while Dimas continued to size up his new training weapon. It had been odd spending the day with Felix, but not as bad as he'd thought. He'd been wrestled to the ground by many people before, and worse than tied up, and been friends with them afterwards, but Felix's apology had been a first. He'd also never thought he would spend time with a guard that wasn't trying to arrest him, but here Felix came, goofy grin spread across his face.

"I want lunch. You want to come with me?"

"Uh, I... guess?" He was paraded out and brought to a restaurant he wasn't supposed to be allowed in anymore, though they wouldn't refuse one of the king's soldiers.

"You've sure got a reputation for yourself here, don't you?" The head cook was giving Dimas a look – in fact, he hadn't looked away from him since he entered the building.

"Yeah, I was thinkin' to move on sometime soon; stealin's too hard when you're known." Felix looked up at him from slurping his soup, a little disappointedly. "Firstly, that were a joke. 'sides, I won't be havin' need of that no more. Well, I mean... can you consider 'warrior of destiny' a job? Do I get taxes on that, or - ?"

Felix choked on his soup laughing, and Dimas apologized. "No more jokes until I finish my soup, right?"

Dimas shrugged, starting on his own meal. He couldn't remember the last time he'd apologized for something. Or laughed. He caught himself smiling.

Felix looked up to catch the smile, was caught off guard, then returned it.

Dimas thought he might have made a friend. And a guard, too. He shook his head.

* * *

They ate dinner at the inn together. Vieno joined them for a bit to say goodbye to Rhea and Lothar. Dimas stared at him, thinking Vieno looked very familiar...he remembered the old woman he'd seen in the inn. This was her, but now he wasn't so sure it was a woman – he'd thought Vieno was a man when they'd first walked in. He shook his head, said hello to Vieno when they passed by, then sat down next to Loki, who was playing with fire under the table.

Rhea, Lothar and Loki stayed in the room they'd been in before. Felix went to his house, bringing Dimas with him. Loki wasn't pleased that Dimas was leaving, and made a funny hissing noise all night that made it hard for Lothar and Rhea to sleep.

Dimas sat up in the bed, his small bag of belongings looking out of place in the clean, large guest bedroom. He looked out the window as rain poured down the panes in runnels, the night sky cloudy and grey. Every time he'd thought he couldn't be who they thought he was, there had been a flash of heat from the gem in his necklace as Loki or Felix would pass by, and he knew he couldn't get out of the responsibility.

But it was all wrong. Warriors of destiny were good people who had great powers and strong morals, who fought for the good and were simply more than he was. They were not street rats who lived in gutters and stole their suppers and broke out of jails. He looked down at thin hands, scarred with a crisscross pattern from hand- and knife-fighting, with chipped nails, bitten and still stained a little darker than the brown colour of his skin.

He sighed, leaned back and pulled up the covers to go to sleep.


	7. The Long Trek North

Chapter Seven: The Long Trek North

The wind was crisp, blowing into Rhea's hood, freezing her neck. She stopped, grabbing her hair and twisting it into a thick rope, wrapping it around her neck, then tying her hood tightly about her face. It hadn't yet snowed, but there was frost on the slowly browning blades of grass in the mornings, crunching beneath their boots, and the ground was firmer than before. The sky had a constant pearl grey pallor from the clouds, and the air felt heavy. Her clothes were stiff as they moved about her, the thick cloth of her over-cloak cold against her wrists and neck where her shirt beneath didn't cover.

They made their way west first, through the large forest mostly surrounding Cornelia, then turned north once they had gotten out of the trees. Now it was windswept flat lands of thick grass until they reached the marshlands. A few encounters with imps had slowed them some, but otherwise there had been no issues. More wild horses, like the ones they had seen in Cornelia not long ago, had been roaming near where they passed, but Loki had frightened them off with a few well-aimed shots of flame.

Felix knew the land best, so he was the leader for the moment. He was dressed in his own set of leather armour, a large wool doublet overtop, though it didn't seem to be helping him much with the cold. "It isn't normally this cold this far south, especially for autumn," he'd commented, brushing the iced grass with his foot, watching the dark green emerge as it melted under his boot and turned the grass wet. "Been here all my life, and never seen even a touch of frost in the dead of winter. It just rains here." But only a day into their journey, flakes of snow fell from the sky, and though they stared at Felix for some explanation, he could only shrug his shoulders and say, "It's weird."

Dimas hung to the back. He'd known the forest well enough, but the area this far north was new to him. Loki stuck to him often, though it would occasionally dart off into the taller grasses and disappear for hours at a time. Up ahead, he could see Rhea, Lothar, carrying the bulk of their possessions, and the top of Felix's head. The grasses here were taller, wilder, and it was becoming harder to keep track of where they had walked. He ran up a little and started walking beside them. Soon even Loki was huddled with them, and Felix wasn't nearly so far ahead.

The sky had gone dark, though too cloudy to see any stars. Felix turned. "We're stopping here."

"Here? In the waist-high grass?" Rhea asked. "Can't we find somewhere that'll be easier to pitch a tent?"

"Not likely," Lothar said. "We're right in the grasslands now. But you could help me stomp down a spot."

Rhea rolled her eyes, lifted her skirt, and started stomping down the thick stalks around her. "That's the spirit," Felix said encouragingly.

"Maybe you could cut some of it with your sword," she replied.

"I don't think that's as easy as you think it is."

"I don't think _this_ is as easy as you think it is." One of the stalks popped back up under her skirt and got tangled. "Argh!"

"You'll be fine," Felix told her.

"I guess chivalry really _is_ dead." She sounded disappointed. The stalk caught and left a run down her skirt as she pulled it out that no one wanted to inform her of.

"Oh, but I'm not a knight _anymore_." He'd handed in a resignation before they left.

"You, stop goading her, or I'll have to listen to it for the rest of the night," Lothar scolded, pushing Felix towards where Dimas and Loki were. "I'll do it, Rhea."

Felix shook his head and turned to the other two.

"No, Loki, don't!" Dimas grabbed the creature's arms from behind and they fell to the ground together. A spark of fire died in Loki's paws. "He was gonna burn the grass down. Nearly 'ad a grassfire on our hands!"

The creature spat and hissed and twisted in fright. They had discovered recently that it wasn't above biting; if Dimas had been anyone else, it probably would have taken a hunk out of their arm, but the young thief's familiar scent calmed it down and it simply slunk away into the tall stalks instead.

"I hope it doesn't try it again. Let's do this quickly so it doesn't."

They worked to bend the grass over, cutting through the thicker stalks of some plants (to which Rhea whined, "Oh, but you wouldn't do it for me."), then put their tent up and waited for Loki. They had already eaten and were nearly asleep when the small creature snuck through the tent flap and into Dimas' bedroll, snuggling up to his shoulder.

_

* * *

_

"You're pretty pathetic, you know," Mayra told him. "Teodoro likes you, but you know, if he didn't, you'd be nobody here."

_Teodoro _did_ like Dimas, at least enough to help him break into the Firdo mansion to impress Mayra. After all, if you could impress Mayra, you were a real somebody in the slums – otherwise, you were a nobody, like everybody else. It would have worked, too, if they hadn't gotten caught doing it, filling their bags with expensive jewellery and clothes._

_Then the guards had him…the spike driving into his hand, pain shooting up his arm, and…_

"Dimas, are you okay?" Dimas' eyes flew open, but only to blackness. He flailed his arms, connecting them with something in the darkness, pushed it away, then whatever it was went through the tent flap, letting in light.

"Oh. Sorry, Felix." He pulled up his collar, pulled on his gloves, then crawled outside as the other young man pushed spiky red bangs out of his eyes and scrambled to his feet.

"Nightmare?"

"Uh, yeah. Old memories," he admitted – he didn't want Felix to think he was worried about going north, and the temple. Everyone else in Cornelia seemed to be afraid of it, but Dimas wasn't superstitious.

"I can't sleep at all," Felix sat down on the leather mat they had spread next to the fire bed, currently dead and black. After a moment's hesitation, Dimas settled down beside him. "Maybe I'm scared," the knight admitted.

"No, ye have the least to worry about of all of us."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, maybe Rhea can heal herself if anythin' happens, Loki has apparently fought before, and is pretty good with his magic, Lothar can fight a little too. I'm pretty fast, for whatever that's worth…"

"But?"

"But you, my friend, are in armour, with a sword, 'n real trainin'."

"I guess so," Felix grinned. "Might not help me too much if I lose my wits out there, though." He glanced north.

Dimas put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't then. We need you."

Felix responded with something like, "Mm hmm," except less vocal, patted the small, gloved hand Dimas had placed on his shoulder as though in agreement, then got up and broke the contact. Dimas sat awkwardly still, shaken by the intimacy of the moment. "I'm going to try to sleep," Felix told him.

"Yeah." Dimas waited for Felix to go into their tent first, then went in and settled down next to Loki (who rolled over in response to his nearness much like a dog) facing away from Felix, and eventually slipped into a sleep that had no dreams.

* * *

Another day of endless walking, of rearranging the straps of their backpacks, as though it would make them more comfortable, of retying their cloaks as thought it would make them warmer. The melted snow made the ground slick, and they kept tripping, hurting half-frozen hands on sharp stones and hard ground. The sun was shining exceptionally bright, and Dimas found his eyes hurting from squinting for so long, wondering if such a thing could give you wrinkles. Then ahead, a scream that had to be Rhea, and a feral snarl. He turned and found Loki standing beside him. Then the snarl had to be…a heavy thump made him jump forward.

Rhea pulled back her mallet and swung it with the momentum of her whole body, but it barely left a bloody mark on the wolf's nose. Felix could be heard asking something, but there wasn't time to answer him. Dimas swung…and missed. "Damnit."

The wolf ran around, disappeared into the grass. "Oh, where is he?" Rhea mumbled. Then Dimas saw a wolf's face lunge at him, jaw open and teeth free.

"Ah!" He had no time to jump, so he fell back instead, hit the ground and smacked his head. Rolling over, he saw the canine gnawing on Rhea's arm. A blast of fire singed its tail and Lothar kicked it, sent it flying away, where it just had time to pick itself up before Felix came through the grass and plunged his sword through its back.

There was a moment of silence, then the back of Dimas' head began to throb; he touched a hand to it, hissed at the sting, found blood, and waited for Rhea to finish healing her arm before coming to him.

* * *

The marshes were, of course, worse. Their feet stuck in the mud at times, and when they pulled out their feet, sometimes their boots slid off. It was cold enough that the ground was firm in some places, but it was still hotter than it had been on the plains, and swarms of flies would come upon them at times. They wrapped blankets around their mouths and noses to stop from inhaling the bugs, but the heat made their faces sweat under the blankets or scarves, and they soon had to take them off. The only one who didn't seem to be bothered was Loki. It had discarded its hat and robe to crawl naked among the boggy place, protected from the flies by its thick fur, and they caught glimpses of a furred limb or a clawed hand between the reeds now and then. Loki wasn't often with them, but it always seemed to be around when its magic was needed.

"This stinks," Dimas said finally, pulling the end of his silk headscarf, now dark with sweat, off his face. He wiped at the moisture running down his cheeks, smearing a few small bugs that had gotten caught on his face by the wet. He swatted his hands around, smacking against a few black flies, but they circled and came back instantly. "I dunno what's worse, the freezin' cold we just came from, or this. How can a place so cold 'n a place so hot be so close together?"

"It's not as hot as we think it is," Lothar reminded them. "Whenever I take anything off to stop sweating, I'm reminded that it's past mid-autumn."

"I'd say this is worse," Rhea said, muffled through the collar she had buttoned over her hood to cover her nose. "I wouldn't mind going back to the cold, even if it is a pain to set up camp with all that grass."

"I don't mean to complain, I guess. But I'm a city-boy if ever there were one. I'm not ready for this." Dimas flung the sweat soaked end of his scarf over his shoulder.

"Maybe if you weren't wearing a long-sleeved, turtle neck wool sweater, you'd feel better," Felix said jokingly. "And you could probably do without the headscarf and the leather gloves, too."

Dimas looked at him, then at Rhea and Lothar. He blushed bright red, as though being caught in some transgression, but shook his head. "No, this is all I've got." He lifted a leg, had one knee-high leather boot sucked off, pulled it out and rammed his foot, complete with a damp sock, back in, re-buckled it, then shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of the heavy vest he wore overtop the sweater. Everyone knew better than to offer him their own shirts by now, having been refused enough times.

"Well I hope you change your mind soon," Lothar said as he passed him, wearing long, loose pants, tucked into high boots of his own, and a billowy cotton shirt that looked much more comfortable. "You're making me sweat just looking at you."

Then there were the monsters.

Monsters in marshes were different. There were still imps, and the occasional odd-looking general imps, with their skulls and banners, and there were still wolves, circling them in packs of light brown or red spotty fur, around a large, strong alpha dog. But there were other things too. Things that looked like people, slow-moving and wearing ragged clothing that had gone long without washing. 'Lost Wanderers' they were called, people who disappeared into the bogs and wetlands. They resurfaced as monsters, if they did at all.

There was also the occasional dead body to be found, half-submerged in the mud and clay. Those with human faces were the most disturbing, especially the one that lay in their narrow path. It had been a man, with a too-large brown shirt, and no shoes. His face was mostly gone. They stepped over him quickly, each holding their breath as though they could wake him. Dimas tripped, steadied himself with a hand on the man's sunken chest. It gave with the sound of air leaving a wet sack. "Ah! Oh gods!" He fell over him and half-crawled, half-ran into Rhea's arms, who gave him a consoling hug – she had also been very upset over it.

"Well, maybe it is good you're wearing gloves," Lothar said, patting Dimas' back while he retched, Rhea holding back a long lock of hair and part of his headscarf that wasn't tucked into the bandanna. The thief steadied himself and immediately started whimpering, ripping off the gloves and dropping them. He instantly shot his hands into his pockets, although Rhea did have time to notice how red they were, and thought it might be good for them to be out of the gloves for a while.

"I can wash these if you want." She looked at them sitting in the mud.

"No, no, I want new ones."

"Okay, we'll get you new ones when we get back to Cornelia," Felix promised, putting a hand on Dimas' shoulders. He gave him a kind of one-armed hug and started towing him forward.

* * *

Another short forest was all that was between them and the Temple of Fiends, according to Felix's map. Once through the forest, after three weeks of travelling, they finally emerged onto the edge of a cliff. "Oh, I guess we have to go around, Felix?" Lothar called over his shoulder.

"What?" The redhead pulled himself up the incline leading to where Lothar and Dimas were with the help of a tree trunk.

"We're on a cliff," Lothar added.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, but we can go down that way." He pointed to an uneven rocky path. "But look there, though." He pointed out over the stretch of land before them.

It stood tall and proud, a structure of pale grey, sprawling across the top of a hill, thin and framed at the corners with black stone, the same black that eventually connected at the top to make a tall spire jutting into the horizon like a break in the sky. The Temple of Fiends.


	8. The Fiends of the Temple

Chapter Eight: The Fiends of the Temple

The place was quiet except for the occasional rustle of Dimas' leather pants as he moved. A few windows, tall and thin with pointed tops, let in bars of light that striped the stone floor of the hallway, but it was still very dark. Dimas found himself walking slowly, dragging his feet forward instead of stepping, measuring the smoothness and slipperiness of the tiles, one hand on the wall beside him, running along it with him for balance, against the sharp ends of broken tiles that had chipped from water running from the windows down the walls. He would once have run his hand along them more gently, letting his fingers into the crevices for grip and avoiding the broken places, but he couldn't feel very well anymore, the calluses on his fingers barely letting him register the pressure, but none of his cuts.

Large stone pillars lined the hall; a broken one was his destination. The walls didn't always attach to the roof in these old buildings, so he hoped to look over one into the large main room, which had once been used for sacrifices, and see if the princess and their runaway knight were inside.

He scrambled to the top, clung to one sharp edge when he almost fell, then got all the way up, standing unsteadily on the uneven surface of the top, the smashed stone crumbling in places under his feet rolling down one sloping edge to join the pile of stone already beside it, once part of the tall, whitish pillar.

He drew his dagger and bashed the hilt against the top of the wall until it broke through, like it was thin ceramic. He pushed other parts of it out until he came to the real wall, a full three fingers below the roof. Peering through, he made out a world of blackness tinted blue. He thought he saw something of a different shade, a pale grey or white, that could have been clothes, but since it was still he wasn't sure. Something else was there, black and shiny and reflecting a little bit of light from the window, but it was small and Dimas quickly disregarded it.

He climbed down slowly though he was tempted to jump – he was afraid to make too much noise. Then he began his way back. He walked down the middle of the hallway, arms spread for balance, but when he stepped into a dip in the ground where the tile had come out, he fell anyway. He struck the side of the loose tile with his knee, splitting it open, and pushing the tile with a grating sound which echoed through the empty space.

He sucked in his breath and ran forward, ignoring the sharp feeling in his knee, until he found the door. Pushing against it, he found it stiff, as though it were locked. With a frustrated sigh, he took a deep breath, backed up, and rammed it with his shoulder. The heavy iron door stayed put, while his shoulder jarred with pain.

"Damnit. Felix! Rhea! Open the –" he stopped suddenly at the sound of something sliding wetly across the ground. He looked over his shoulder and saw a person coming towards him. He nearly spoke to them, but instinct made him hold back, a cold feeling moving down his neck. Then they came into the light, a bar of it streaming through a window, faint in the evening sunlight, and he was faced with a head dark and bloated, wet holes for the eyes and mouth, and eyeless. But the head turned towards him anyway, 'seeing' him with sightless sockets, and then others appeared behind it, massing slowly. It walked towards him with bare feet, reached for him with hands in very familiar gloves.

He turned and began pounding on the door.

* * *

They knew something was wrong when the heavy iron door began rocking on its hinges, flakes of rust drifting down. Dimas' voice was indistinct, but obviously distressed, and the door would no longer open.

Felix felt a fit of panic coming on. But that was no good – he could be no help to anybody if he didn't keep calm. And good, too, that he thought that to himself, because in a state almost too calm, he thought of an idea. "Loki, heat this."

The small, furry creature's hand waved fire toward the blade Felix indicated almost absent-mindedly, worrying near the door with Rhea, who was attempting to wedge the doors apart with the handle of her mallet, screaming, "It's okay, Dimas! We're here!"

Felix pushed her aside and rammed the heated end of the sword into the lock. All plant matter and cobwebs burned away, and he moved the blade back and forth until he heard things snap, and pieces of metal fell out, then finally pulled on the handle with all his weight on it, then Rhea's and Loki's too, as they held his waist and backed up… and the handle fell off. They flew backward and hit the ground.

Felix ran forward, got his hand mostly in the hole where the handle had been and threw the door open. Then he fell back with a scream.

A mass of cloth and rotten flesh was piled on top of someone – Dimas – who was nearly unrecognisable. Their fingers grasped at a torn knee, attracted by the blood. Dimas turned towards the light as they began tearing the thick wool of his sweater. "Felix! Loki! Help –" And they couldn't see his face anymore. Giant, hairy spiders swarmed.

"Dimas!" Rhea shrieked.

"No!" Felix grabbed his sword from the ground and descended on them – this wasn't how this would end, he wasn't going to let anyone die that way, he wasn't going to panic… he hacked methodically, limbs rolling away, still twitching. Then a clawed hand struck him. And he started to feel dizzy.

His knees struck the ground hard, but he couldn't seem to muster the energy to stand. The panic had nearly set in when his vision was taken over by the sight of bright magic, swirling red flames and penetrating blue-white light, overtake the hoard. The bright light finished the few zombies left, passing through Dimas' limp form harmlessly, and then Rhea and Loki were there to fret, and Lothar was trying to lift Felix to his feet…

* * *

Dimas was left outside while Lothar joined them, foraging through the Temple. Dimas had been sent to scout the place out first, but he could tell them little except that there was something in the main room, and that they should go there. "You're our top priority right now," Rhea told him.

The rooms they found were often locked, drawn on with an odd symbol of curving lines and small dashes, although they did find a hat in one open room, and Rhea found a chest filled with things that were donated or sacrificed to the old demons many years ago, old clothes that were mostly rotted away, things they had no use for. She finally pulled out a few bottles. "Here, this is good for poisons, it says. It might still be good. Maybe you should try it. Those spiders got you good." Rhea handed the bottle to Felix, whose arms were covered in large red spots.

"What about Dimas?"

"I can take care of him," she said. Then with a sigh, added, "Besides, we need someone to be in good health, and I don't think a little potion will do him much good right now. You can still walk, for now."

* * *

"You are _not_ coming in with us, that is final." Felix picked at his food angrily, frustrated at Dimas' stubbornness.

"But I feel better now," the thief protested. His face was pale under his tan; his eyes looked sunk deep into sockets so dark they nearly looked bruised, the lids rimmed red; there was no colour to his lips. His whole face shone in the firelight with a cold sweat. "Don't leave me out 'ere alone."

"We could leave someone here with you."

"No, it's better if we don't split up." He frowned at Felix, with a face that would have been intimidating if it didn't look so ill.

"Fine, who wants to babysit Dimas?" Lothar said sharply.

"Don't be an ass," Rhea snapped back. "I'll do it. Though maybe you should."

Felix interjected before the spat got out of hand. "Hey, we're all in this together, right guys? There's no 'babysitting,' just watching each other's backs. There's no need to argue. But your magic would be kind of useful," he told her.

"I could heal you after," she suggested. "Or, better, we'll bring Dimas in, just not in the main hall."

"Fine. But you're not coming in the main room with us," Felix added, pointing a warning finger Dimas' way. "And you're not doing any fighting, if it comes to that. We can't afford having you get hurt. Any more, that is."

Dimas grinned tiredly, shook his head, and fell back where he was to stare at the stars. "Whatever."

* * *

Garland sat at a table, staring angrily at the girl before him. She wore a light grey dress, dirty from sitting on the floor, her legs tucked up under her chin. She faced away from him, shielding her face with a sheet of her green hair. He had a temper that she couldn't remember from the previous five years of his service, and it hurt her to look at him, to see that he was not really Garland anymore. Something had changed.

He took another swig of the wine in his goblet as the door burst inwards. Turning, he saw a small group of people walking towards him.

"You had better have the king with you."

They stopped just before the altar, where he stood.

Felix felt uneasy, seeing such a man wearing the familiar gold armour and red uniform of his own previous job, that all his friends had worn, although it made him feel better that it was in different condition – with no blacksmiths to care for it, Garland had used the old-fashioned means of caring for his chainmail and plate armour by greasing it, and it turned it black, or dark gold where it had dried and begun to fade. Felix drew his sword, knowing there would be no negotiations. "We're not here to bargain with you. We're here to take Sara back."

Behind him, Felix heard the others reposition themselves to his sides, shift their movements for the battle, Lothar positioning his feet for balance, a small knife slip out of its sheath, and Rhea's hammer tapping against the ground in anticipation.

Garland smiled, as though he had a chance. "Fine. I'll take on all of you."

He moved lightning-fast, brought his sword up and lunged it forward. Felix barely had time to parry the blow before Garland was on another one, aiming for his face, and Felix deflected that one too, backing up this time. Their swords twisted back and forth, but Felix could only block. He never got the upper hand, he never got a chance to take any swings of his own. He had nearly forgotten the others were there until a foot in a familiar, Melmondan-style sandal kicked the horned helmet on the chin and knocked Garland off balance. Garland turned to Lothar, slashed, and cut right through his shirt, leaving a long line on his chest and a stain on his shirt that moved downwards, got bigger and bigger. Lothar backed up, leaned against a pillar for balance and clutched at his abdomen, where the worst damage was.

It wasn't much, but it was what Felix needed. He swung sideways and his blade connected with Garland's arm, where there was a break in his greaves for bending his elbow, then continued through it, and Garland's voice rose in a roar as his left arm fell to the ground with his shield. Felix stood rooted to the spot, stared at the bloody smear on his blade, then at Garland's arm. He'd never actually seriously injured anyone before, let alone killed someone. He felt a little sick, a nauseous feeling settling in his stomach as he realized what he was doing. But there was no time. He was moving forward this time, he was the one doing the attacking, and Garland had to block with a sword not meant for such a thing.

Garland took a chance swing behind him, towards a dirty, young girl in the corner. Felix jumped, though he knew he wouldn't get there in time to save her.

Dimas appeared out of the shadows and smacked at Garland's sword with his own. It did nothing of impact, but it deflected that blow, and caught the former knight off guard. Then Dimas collapsed in a fit of strained breathing on an odd-looking purple-black crystal.

Loki's fire started at Garland's heels, so lightly that the man didn't feel it at first, then it ran up his pant leg, and consumed him in its flames. He dropped his sword, fell back with a scream, clawing at the metal of his armour, heating up and burning him.

Felix, out of pity, took aim, and plunged his sword tip through a slit in the visor of Garland's helmet.

The young girl's crying became increasingly louder, despite Dimas' attempts at comfort: hugging her, and picking her up and rocking her, weakly stroking her hair. Then he handed her to Rhea just before he fainted into Felix's arms.


	9. Five Minus One

Chapter Nine: Five Minus One

It started as a few small specks on the stone. Blood so dark it appeared black in the dim lighting, or _was_ it really black? Then a pool of it seeped outwards, staining the grout, spilling from the helm and covering the armour, dirtying the grey collar of a shirt just peeking out at the neck. And a shadow slipped from the helm's visor, settled near the ground and flowed weakly towards the purple-black orb, pulsating lightly, the air reverberating with energy. The shadow was sucked into the orb as though it was air inhaled in a breath. But no one was there to see it but the bats. Small, black, furry bats that watched with shining, intelligent eyes…

* * *

"That was stupid. You could have gotten yourself killed!" They were the first words Felix had uttered in many hours, as he'd been waiting for his adversary to wake up, and he spoke them now almost in relief, letting them spill out in a rush as though he'd been holding his breath.

"Felix…I don't think…now is…the time," Rhea muttered, trailing her fingers over her patient's chest, pinkish coloured light flowing behind her fingers in a stream of healing magic before seeping through the thick wool sweater.

"If I 'adn't been there, Sara would've died." Dimas' voice was quiet and tight with pain, but it was very steady. His eyes had barely just opened, and he appeared nearly half-asleep. "You just don't wanna admit that."

"I was there."

"Oh, yes, and y'all were doin' a wonderful job at protectin' her, leavin' 'er there when ye were two feet away, hackin' a man's arm off!" Dimas sat up a little, propping up his tired body with both his elbows. "Even if ye could've blocked his hit from where ye were, she saw everythin'. D'you know what that does to a child? Seein' that kind of violence?"

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

"Shut up!" Rhea shrieked, lifting her head and glaring primarily at Felix, then at Dimas. "If you aren't both quiet right now, I'll leave." She flicked a stray bang from her face.

"Because you're doing so much for him right now," Felix said sarcastically. "It's not like you can heal the poison."

"It's not like you can heal that giant, bloody welt on your arm, either," she snapped, pointing to the harmless but extremely uncomfortable injury he'd gotten during the fight when he'd blocked one of Garland's blows with his arm and his leather armguard had rubbed against his forearm, then split to receive a small slice from the blade. "So I guess you'll have to wait until we get back to Cornelia. I've got a worse patient to heal anyway." She got up, shook grass out of her skirts, and left the tent the men shared for the one she used with Lothar.

The thief and the soldier stared each other in the eyes. Although Dimas looked calm on the outside, he was filled with turmoil on the inside. He'd never had any close friends, except Teodoro, and he hadn't been sure he wanted one, at first. But he didn't want to be in a fight with Felix either way… and he thought he liked having him as a friend. "I know it's jes' 'cause ye don't want me to get killed," he gasped softly, feeling exhausted from the venom. "I'm flattered, really, but I think ye prob'ly would've done the same. We came to save Sara, didn't we? What kinda hero would I be if I stood by when I thought she were in danger 'cause I was afraid for _my_ life?"

Felix continued to look him in the eyes, his expression unchanging, not lightening in the least, but Dimas started to wonder whether it was really anger he saw in the soldier's eyes, and not just strain. Then the seriousness of Felix's face seemed to break and he walked over, collapsed on the ground beside Dimas, seeming sad in a way. He put a hand on Dimas' shoulder, eliciting a gasp from the thief, whose skin felt sore all over now, and pushed him down to lie on his back again. He let his hand rest there a moment, until he felt the tenseness leave Dimas' body, then moved it, clasped his hands together on his lap. "You need to rest. Rhea would have a bird if she thought I was stressing you out – and she's right, I shouldn't be." He sighed. Then he got up and left without another word.

* * *

"You are worrying," Lothar pointed out. "Knock it off."

"Worrying? Over you?" Rhea lifted her head a centimetre to glance at her brother through her bangs. "Nonsense. I'd never have to worry about my crazy…uh, cool brother," she finished lamely. Her fingers shook as she let some of her last reserves of magic go, trailing from her cool touch into her brother over the long slash Garland had given him.

He caught her hand and steadied it against his stomach, still sore but no longer bleeding, then touched a finger to the wrinkle that had appeared, as it always did, between her eyebrows, smoothing over it. "See? Worrying," he gasped. "Worry-wart." He startled a chuckle, but the movement of his abdomen made him cringe.

"Just go to sleep, silly." She got up and parted the opening of her tent, moving to sit by the fire next to Sara.

The girl stared into the fire, seeming oblivious to her filthy dress, tangled hair, or the uncomfortable position in which she sat. Her left foot had gone to sleep under her weight long ago, but she didn't feel like moving. "Hey," Rhea started lamely. There was no answer, and after a while, the woman just sighed, leaning back to relax after the stresses of healing. On the other side of the fire, Loki was curled up in a ball of its navy robes, a furry paw sticking out below the hem, the straw hat set over its head to protect its eyes from the fire. It was awake, though, peering around through the tiny holes in the straw between where the pieces were woven together.

"I can bring you home tomorrow."

"What?"

Sara sighed. "I can bring us home. But I need to rest and sleep off the spells Garland placed on me to disable my magic. There's no need to travel. So you should pack."

"Oh. That's great. I'll tell the others." Rhea stood to go.

"Thank you."

It was quiet, but Rhea heard it. She stooped down, hugged the girl around the shoulders. "Don't thank me." She stood back up, biting back the guilt over her inaction during the fight against Garland. The man had moved faster than any other, been stronger, and she had frozen in surprise. "Would you like something else to wear?"

"No. I'm fine in this."

As Rhea went to find Dimas and Felix, Loki uncurled itself and shook, then slunk off into the trees.

* * *

The moon was high and the sky clear in the early night, the time of twilight just settling. A crisp autumn night wind shook the long grasses and stunted trees, which appeared to be shivering.

A footstep and a rustle. Loki's head swung to the side, tilted to raise the brim of its hat so it could see higher. It squealed and tried to dash on its hind legs away from the strange-looking human, then saw another. It crouched to all fours, backed away, head glancing back and forth at them. A whimper escaped as it recognised similar things to what had attacked its human, the beautiful one with the brown hair, who built fires for Loki and scratched the back of its neck; then, as one of them stepped forward, a hand reaching out, it became angry. Perhaps they had come back for the human boy.

It pulled back its upper lip and snarled. The growl started low in its throat, then rose to a roar.

They leapt forward, and it jumped up, over their heads. Turning, it held out a claw and sent a burst of flame rushing out at them. It wasn't enough to kill, but it was enough to stall. They wallowed a little towards it. It felt an emptiness inside that it recognised – no magic left. So it drew a knife and ran at the things, leapt onto one's back, wrapped its hind legs about its neck and stabbed viciously at its neck. The straw hat fell off its shoulders to the ground. The second creature walked towards it, striking Loki with its claw. And Loki felt tired suddenly.

It dropped to the ground, twisted as much as it could, feeling its body tingle in response. The creatures bent over it and began ripping at it. Its fur fell out in tufts and it felt small cuts appeared along its chest.

Then there was a sword blade running the creatures through. Loki saw the human with the red hair, the alpha boy that fought things all the time, and well. He must have heard its roar. Loki was afraid of that one. Perhaps it would be like the alpha of its previous group, who had finally decided it was best to see who made the better leader for the group, their strongest fighter, or their most magically gifted. But humans were weird creatures that lived differently than Pelenors. The red human held out a hand to Loki, then, when there was no movement, sheathed his sword and knelt to check the creature over, and finally picked it up and carried it to the tents.

* * *

Dimas' dreams were haunted with images of the zombie who wore his gloves, nightmares that he followed them, and continued to follow forever. Dimas couldn't run forever… and eventually, the thing caught him, and there was the feel of his sweater being torn under hands greedy to get to his skin, like they had been when they had all been there, and someone else's hand grasped at his torn knee, fingers gripping it tightly, pain going up his leg…

His heart raced dangerously and he broke out in a cold sweat, but his mind was caught in his dreams. It was as though the poison ran through his veins sucking a little more of his energy away with each movement he took. Dimas tossed, but the man next to him, Lothar, was caught up enough in his own pain from a half-healed stomach wound that he only registered Dimas' movements as regular tossing. Felix had been up and fidgety all night, but now he had finally collapsed in a sleep without dreams, without movement, just utter oblivion. Rhea slept in the other tent with Sara, who was shy around the men, and Loki, who was tired and bruised from his earlier encounter. She never heard anything.

They found Dimas dead in the morning.

Rhea was a mess, having knelt beside him, checked and checked again for any vital signs, pacing quickly outside by the campfire and screaming that she was useless, a useless healer who couldn't even cure a bit of poison… and she hadn't done much for Lothar, either, who could barely walk, and had an expression on his face like he was going to vomit. Felix was surprised that Lothar just stood and watched her display of self-disappointment, that he didn't go to comfort her, didn't attempt to stop her, but realized it might be because he was in too bad a mood or too much pain to bother.

Felix finally took it upon himself and walked up to her, putting his hands heavily on her shoulders to stop her in her tracks. She whirled on him, barely giving him a glimpse of her tear-stained face before she pummelled him with her fists on his chest and a heavy blow to his jaw to push him away. He grabbed both her wrists to avoid any more forthcoming punches, and when she collapsed in a fit of screams that were indistinguishable between anger and sadness, he pulled her back up and into a hug that was returned with vigour.

"It's okay." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Maybe he's not dead," Lothar said. The other two stared at him. "I mean, don't get me wrong. He's dead. But maybe not _dead,_ dead. The Light Warriors are supposed to have all kinds of special powers. They're supposed to be like those Mythic Warriors you hear about in legends all the time; they didn't always die, sometimes they just went into long comas. Maybe it's a coma."

"Either way… I wasn't very useful to him."

"You were very useful," Felix retorted. "With all the beatings we've been taking, we wouldn't have made it without you."

"But I'm still not enough."

"Then we'll just have to get beat up less," Lothar said.

"You finish gathering whatever else we need to take," Felix suggested, "and I'll take care of Dimas."

Sara stood ready not long after. Her saviours looked so tired, and tormented. There were so few of them. She couldn't understand why they had done what they had for her, but she had to be grateful. She glanced quickly over them – the woman, with her curly blond-touched caramel hair pulled back in an untidy bun today, and in a worn green dress, and the man apparently her brother, his much lighter blond hair cut short, bangs held back in a bandanna, in loose clothes and big shoes, each of olive skin tone and appearing in their mid-thirties; the knight, obviously Cornelian, and with a dark red-brown hair colour to prove it, though with a much deeper tan than most Cornelians could obtain and a very large nose; the odd creature in its blue robes, straw hat pulled down on its face. And of course, the one rolled up in the white blanket that the ex-knight held in his arms.

She raised her head and spoke with all the authority she could bring to her voice at her twelve years of age. "Are you ready to return with me?"

* * *

Jayne held Sara in her arms and babbled. No one was quite sure what she was talking about, because they were far more interested in other things, but it was good to know that their efforts were appreciated.

She eventually turned to her husband. "Their good deeds cannot go unrewarded."

Spurred on by this, the king nodded. "Yes of course. Surely there must be something we can give you in payment."

"I'm sure there is. But would your majesty mind if we had time to think about it first? There are many matters we must attend to," Felix said.

"Yes, of course," the king said absently, gazing at his wife and two daughters, together again. "You can get back to me."

The others headed for the inn, but Felix went straight to the church, having other things to attend to. "First things first," he muttered tiredly to the sheet he carried as he pushed the heavy church door open with his shoulder and sidled in. An older man in a white habit glanced over his shoulder from kneeling at the altar and got to his feet just as Felix reached him.

"I need you to take care of my friend," Felix said, recognising the high priest. He placed Dimas on the altar and pulled back the top of the sheet to reveal Dimas' face. "He fell in battle."

"Yes, of course," the man nodded.

"But I'm not talking about a funeral. If you know what I mean."

At first the man did not know what Felix meant. Then he initially got the wrong impression. But then, his second sight, though weak as in most people, still strong enough after his training for the clergy, seemed to brighten the room and seemed to make Felix, and yes Dimas too, appear different than they had before. "Oh, I see. I'm not sure if I can do that."

"Try, try, and try again," Felix told him. He offered him money. But when it was all said and done, the priest's chants did nothing.

"It isn't the spell, it's the right one; I know it is."

"Then you're just not doing it properly." The man began to argue, but Felix held up a hand. "Can I at least get a proper coffin for my friend? I'm not lugging him through the countryside in a filthy sheet."

"Yes, of course. If you leave him here, the staff will care for him and put him in a coffin. Clean him up a little."

"I don't want him buried." Best to say it now, so he wouldn't have to attempt exhuming him later (a practise generally illegal in Cornelia) in the middle of the night, risk being labelled a gravedigger, and run off with him, though he supposed he would if he had to.

"No, of course not. I'll be sure to tell them that he's going to be… travelling?"

"Yes, we're going…we're going to bury him in his hometown, tell them."

* * *

Now that everyone heard what had happened with Sara, Felix found many who were more than willing to give them a discount, and he got a carriage and a deel to pull it for free.

Deels were squat, four-legged creatures, with long velvety ears, standing on cloven hooves, and sturdy muscular legs; they were covered in a hide of coarse thick hair, short underneath and with long guard hairs that sometimes hung to inches below their bellies, so rough that if you rode one and rubbed bare skin on it you could get a vile rash. They were believed to share the ancestors of horses or donkeys, but horses were wild and undomesticated – donkeys were used for pack animals sometimes, and riding, but Felix couldn't expect a donkey to keep the hard pace they wanted, to carry all the weight, and traverse the harshest terrain. This one was dark, a mix of dark brown and black, with extra shaggy tufts of fur over its hooves, and a short white mane that had been cut to a few inches so it stuck up in what looked a bit like a mohawk. He then brought it back with him to the inn, and left it with the small stables there.

He knocked lightly and opened the door to the siblings' room, glanced in around it, and finding them both awake, entered.

"We've got a carriage now, so we can take Dimas with us. And carry more things." He saw the small bottles of herbal remedies on the floor and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"We should have potions and antidotes with us until I'm sure I can care for all of us. I need more training," Rhea muttered. "Cornelia isn't the place for that."

"No, I agree," Felix said. He plopped the wood crate he had carried with him to the ground and began placing the bottles inside, wrapping them in a sheet first. "I'll put these with the carriage tomorrow. We should stay here until the bridge is started, I think."

Rhea nodded, and took the other small boxes he had. "These are for our things?"

"Yes. I've already got my things and Dimas' put away."

She flinched at the mention of Dimas' name, but knelt and pulled a bag from under her bed, then began folding her thicker over-dresses tightly and packing them into the box. Her backframe, a backpack with a wooden frame for added support and leather straps that could be fastened over the chest or stomach if it was packed heavily, was still open on her bed, only half-full. "I'll help Lothar with his packing. You go deal with the king maybe?" They had decided that they needed the bridge to the north rebuilt. After a nod in Lothar's direction, who was still groggy and sore and a little irritable, lying on his bed, Felix left for the castle.

* * *

They travelled to the bridge town and waited there. Felix occasionally offered help with the construction, and Lothar too, now he felt better. The bridge had been out ever since the start of the odd weather conditions, about a year ago, which had caused a great flood on the straight and the bay to the northwest of it, and had not been scheduled to be rebuilt for some time. The Quadrin caravan, having heard of the early start, had also moved slowly north, and were stationed at the town as well.

The townspeople only did well from all the attention. It was a place people usually slept and ate at before they began the day-long trek across the huge stone bridge, but without the bridge, no one bothered with it. It looked nice still, with the same grand architecture as Cornelia, and shrines to travelling spirits to pray at before you began your journey north. But the damage done to its economy left a mark, and it would be there for some time. Felix felt bad for the people, but also for the others, farmers, who had been going to get the king's aid first, who now had to wait.

_Whatever. We needed the bridge,_ he told himself.

They saw Vieno, Saundra and Donatien there, along with other caravaners. Those three came to visit Rhea and Lothar in the evenings, and Felix, feeling left out at being too young to remember many things they spoke about, left the older people to their talk and strolled with Loki.

Eventually he collapsed tiredly to the ground, and Loki curled up next to him. It seemed after the incident with the zombies, and Felix helping him, Loki had finally accepted Felix as well. It still avoided Lothar at times, but its total dismissal of him before had hurt Felix's feelings somewhat, although he would never have admitted it.

He leaned back against the carriage and saw their deel grazing not far away, tied loosely to a post. _Dimas was in the carriage. _He tried not to think about it. Someone at Cornelia had been speaking of a witch named Matoya, and if anyone could bring someone back from the near-dead, a witch should be able to do it.

_What if she couldn't do it?_ He squeezed his eyes shut and ignored those thoughts, hugging tightly to the furry creature in the blue robes who had crawled into his lap and began to purr comfortingly, at some point, ignoring the tears that rose in his eyes, then finally blinked them away. No, Rhea could get away with crying at Dimas's death; Lothar could too if he wanted to. But Felix was tough. He had to keep his cool. He breathed deeply and turned his head to glance out at the vast grasslands beyond the strait, where they would soon be, untamed land, very minimally mapped land. Wild land.

He would have to be the strong one for the group. He would not cry over Dimas, because he would make this right.

He would not cry.

Loki purred louder to cover the sounds of the sobs to any passers-by.


	10. Northern World

Chapter Ten: Northern World

It was a day across the bridge, then they were left to take in the expanse of the lands around them. The Quadrin caravan was headed north, and as they were initially going the same way, the Light Warriors stuck close to them for a while. Good thing, too, because during one fight against a basilisk their carriage was damaged on both wheels of its right side.

It was Vieno who stayed behind a bit to look over the damage. "Don't worry," they said, waving a hand dismissively. "It can be fixed. But that'll take time. Why don't you put your things with ours for now and we'll carry the carriage, too, until it can be repaired? We've got people that can do it."

Felix agreed, but then followed Vieno as they walked around to the back of the carriage and lifted the wooden bar that kept the doors closed. "Um, I think you should know…we've got a dead body in there." Vieno turned to him with silver eyebrows raised. "In a casket and everything. Just…I thought I should warn you. In case it freaked you out."

"Oh." Vieno chuckled. "No, it's fine."

Rhea and Lothar took all the bags and boxes and carried them up to where the caravan had passed them a little. Vieno stuck with Felix, who led the deel and carriage forward, finally hitching the deel to the side of one of the last wagons. Vieno helped Felix lift the casket out so two guards could haul the carriage up into the wagon. But when it came to the casket itself, there were some reservations. There was only so much room, and what room there was could only be found in the wagons where the caravaners and merchants slept. No one wanted to have it in their room, understandably.

"I'll take it," Vieno said finally with a sigh. "There's plenty of room in my area, and I'm hardly ever in there. I can sleep somewhere else. Just help me rearrange some things."

Vieno apparently had their own wagon, a small one no bigger than the Light Warriors' carriage, pulled by two horses. Felix stared at them with wide eyes, shocked, as he'd never seen horses this close before without them attacking him or running. Vieno patted one on the neck and it shook its head aggressively in response, large teeth gnashing. Felix jumped. Vieno laughed loudly at him, "It's alright, boy, they mind me. Let's get your departed friend." Dimas was put in the very back, with a few of Vieno's crates on top and some of the caravan's rolls of cloth piled in front, out of the way, and out of sight.

The caravan moved slowly, but they were fine with it. The trees had lost their leaves by now, and the wind was now bitingly cold. They continued up through the pass in the mountains before they would have to part, down a gravelly road lined with said leafless, stunted trees, coarse grasses, and woody bushes, the pebbled ground grabbing at the large wheels of the wagons, putting cracks in the wood spokes as pebbles flew when a donkey or person passed quickly, and miring them in wet silt and clay underneath when it finally rained, an example of early winter weather.

Their last night together, Felix, Rhea and Lothar sat with Vieno and the guards Saundra and Donatien, who never seemed to be separated, perhaps because they were partners, always on duty together. Rhea had asked if they were dating, and both had collapsed in a fit of laughter. "You could have just said 'no'." Vieno tried to hide their grin behind a hand too thin to really cover it. "Would they be that terrible for each other?" Rhea asked, seeing the grin, just as the two guards quietly said goodnight and goodbye to her brother. "I don't see the joke."

"They're just… not exactly each other's type, I don't think."

"What? They get along so well."

"Your brother would understand what I mean." But a look from Lothar silenced Vieno from continuing.

The next thing Vieno said was an offer. In response to Felix's qualms to going north in search for this Matoya, they said, "Well, I could always come with you."

"No, it could be dangerous," Felix argued. Vieno raised one eyebrow. "You could get hurt," he pushed.

"My boy, I'm up at four in the morning, just for talking to you; I'm drunk already, not even from yesterday; I've been sleeping next to a dead guy for the past week. Do I _sound_ like I have a lot to lose?"

Felix grinned in response and shrugged. "I guess you can come if you want. But won't you lose some pay?"

"I'm getting a bit bored of this anyway. I need a break."

* * *

They all unloaded their things into the Light Warriors' carriage, now repaired, leaving Vieno's cart with the caravan, complete with the fierce horses. Felix strapped on his armour and watched Vieno do the same from the corner of his eye, wondering exactly what kind of fighter someone so old would be. Vieno wore an armlet as opposed to armour, washed in gold, a common buckler, and wore only regular gloves, although they also had a ring on with a black gem that seemed to make the air around it glow black, if that were possible. They tied their wavy silver hair in a horsetail, put on a small circlet with a black ribbon attached (which looked suspiciously similar to the gem in the way it glowed) and tied that about their hair too for good measure, then buckled a wide-bladed silver sword on their belt that Felix had looked at admiringly earlier, interestingly, on the right side.

They hooked the deel up and continued north, deep into a forest that no longer had leaves, leaving the cloudy white sky above them to be obscured only by branches that appeared as thin black slashes to Felix's strained vision. The ground was covered in a thick carpet of leaves that were damp from fall rain, mouldering and catching pools of water, squishing under their boots.

"One good think to be said about autumn. With no leaves, you'll probably see anything coming for miles," Lothar said cheerily.

"Just as anything else will probably see us," Vieno said, though oddly enough, sounding just as cheerful. They tilted their red hat, complete with a white plumed feather, downwards to block out some of the disgustingly bright light. Felix wondered why it was always so bright in winter, even without snow. You'd think the clouds would make it darker, but they just made it whiter.

Ogres lived in the northern parts of the forest. At least, so they had been told. Despite the odd noises of things snapping at night, Felix was starting to wonder if anything other than wolves and imps lived in these parts. But as he was walking ahead of the group, he saw something swing towards him and he ducked just in time to avoid it.

Lying flat on his stomach on wet, muddy leaves, Felix looked up, and up…and up at a giant, humanoid thing of pure muscle, brown-purple splotchy skin nearly the colour of the leaves around them – camouflage maybe? – with coarse brown hair falling past his shoulders, wearing only a loose loincloth, and wielding a tree like a club. Ogre.

"Uh," he started, getting up, attempting to go around and back towards the others. Then he saw something greyish-blue, but too blue for the surroundings. A lizard-like creature, feathery red tufts on the top of its head and bulging eyes: a basilisk.

"Hey!" He looked over his shoulder to see Vieno standing behind him, still a ways off. "Don't move Felix, if you know what's good for you!"

He did as he was told and soon understood why as Vieno pointed their hand and bursts of magic, flame laced with lightning, flashed out, spiralling through the air at the creatures, but managing to just graze by him without hitting him, even going around. He could only be thankful that Vieno had good aim and control, then…_since when had Vieno had magic? _And how could they hit both the things at once?

He stayed frozen as the ogre ran towards the supposed black mage behind him, right over Felix's head, and he groaned inwardly, wishing ogres' loincloths connected underneath. Another ogre had also appeared out of the trees, and when he saw how fast they were, he understood how it was that they hadn't yet spotted them. There was no way Vieno would be able to ward them off or take their hits if they were a mage. Felix followed the creatures.

Vieno stared them down, then tilted their hat over their eyes for concentration – they just couldn't concentrate when they could see how close things were. A blue-green aura surrounded them, followed by shards of ice shooting up from the earth, stabbing through the creatures. The basilisk fell to the ground, dead.

One of the ogres brought its tree-club down hard on Vieno's right side, and as they blocked, Felix heard a crack. He drew his sword and charged it from behind, hoping to surprise it. Vieno tossed their heavy buckler aside and clutched their broken arm to their belt, concentrating on their left arm, in which they held their sword, proceeding to slash and stab at the beasts with great skill. Felix found himself admiring Vieno's swordplay, and wondered how they had gotten so good.

Felix dodged hurriedly, and again, as the ogre swung its club back and forth through the air he had just occupied, wind rushing by with a whistle. He lost his footing, fell to his knees, and saw the club come straight down. He had no buckler, and so brought his sword up, point down, hilt tilted out, to receive the brunt of the damage on the strongest part of the blade. The oncoming swing snapped the blade off barely an inch from the hilt. He stared at the length of metal, still holding the hilt in both his hands, disbelieving. When the next blow finally landed, it sent him flying into a tree.

Vieno jumped, climbed the first ogre's back with amazing flexibility, and plunged their sword into its neck to the hilt. Then they leapt off before it hit the ground, landing lightly on small feet, turned and swung their sword sideways with enough force that the second ogre's kneecap shattered. How could Vieno possibly be that strong…and with only one hand? Lothar distracted it – Felix couldn't even remember when Lothar had gotten there – as Vieno finished it off.

"Holy…" he couldn't even think of a word to express his disbelief.

"You can fight like that _and_ use dark arts?" Lothar asked, offering a helping hand for Vieno to get up. Rhea stepped up and held out a hand to heal their arm.

Vieno only shrugged in reply to Lothar's question, accepting the hand, then brushing aside Rhea's offer, touched a hand to their arm themself, and a pool of pinkish mist seeped out.

"You can heal too?" Rhea asked indignantly.

"Show off," Felix teased, using the tree he'd been slammed up against as a support to get back up. Vieno snapped a finger at him and he felt his injuries and bruises heal, much better – he had to admit – than when Rhea cast a spell. "Thank you."

"It's no problem. I'm not much of a healer, really, don't have much aptitude for the bright arts." They spoke to Rhea now. "But these are high-level spells. And I had a good teacher. You need a better one. You'll be much better than me, I can tell – you're extremely good already; but they can teach you practically nothing in Cornelia."

Rhea blushed at the compliment, lowered her head and went back to the deel. "You weren't much help," Felix heard her say, and he turned to see her talking to Loki, who peered around the carriage from the back. "You could have thrown a few flames, no?"

Felix found the blade and slipped it into the sheath, holding the bare handle in his other hand, unused to how much lighter it was. Vieno clasped a hand on his shoulder, with the arm that had been broken not long ago. It must have been a strong spell.

"I've had this sword my whole life," he said, feeling he owed them some explanation for why they were waiting. "Guess I'll need a new one."

"Yeah, blades can be like friends," Vieno added, and Felix was surprised that they seemed to understand. "But a true master of the sword is one who can make friends with any sword."

"I suppose."

* * *

They eventually emerged from the thickest of the trees to the bank of a fast-flowing river. Felix heaved a sigh, planted his hands on his hips and waited for the others to catch up, one hand brushing against the hilt he had tied to the top of his scabbard. He glanced down at it with an annoyed look. The sound of a few pebbles bouncing down the bank of the river made him look up and back.

The carriage and deel were up near the flat ground, Vieno slowly making their way down, digging their heels into the soft, damp earth and flailing arms for balance. Felix held his hand out and took one of theirs, steadying them as they stumbled into him.

"Thanks," they said, patting one of his shoulders.

"We can't swim this." Felix waved an impatient hand to the river.

"Okay." Vieno took a puff from what they had been smoking for the last hour, something that looked like a cigar, but smelled much different, and blew some smoke rings into the air. Felix watched them rise and dissipate. "We'll have to go around." They watched him from the corner of one eye as they spoke, their eyes looking a bit green today, and grinned at the frustrated look in his face. "You could _try_ swimming," they added.

"No," he sighed in defeat. "And we have to take the carriage and Dimas with us anyway. Hopefully it'll get shallower further down."

"I don't think this is getting too shallow for a long ways…"

"Why are you trying to make me depressed?"

Vieno laughed, their usual, full, loud laugh, and Felix trudged up back to the carriage without bothering to offer Vieno any help. He turned back to look when he saw the expression on Lothar's face, and saw Vieno stumble on their way up, then right themself before falling into the water, hold their cigar in their mouth so they could grab at the small bushes and pull their way up. They started giggling when Lothar walked over, held them under the arms and lifted them back up.

"You really have no respect for your elders," Vieno said, taking the cigar out of their mouth, wagging a finger at Felix with the same hand (their previously broken arm was still sore, apparently, and that hand remained in their pocket almost all the time), then started coughing.

"You should quit the smoking."

Vieno waved that away, shrugged, "Nah, it's a little late for me."

"Oh come on," Felix said as he started walking, the carriage slowly rolling west, down the river. "You're not that old."

"Well, you don't know how old I am," Vieno grinned, and narrowed their eyes challengingly. They continued along, attempting to guess Vieno's age.

"Fifty?"

"Sixty."

"Hundred and five!"

"_Lothar_." Rhea smacked him lightly on the head. Vieno laughed.

"Sixty-four," they finally relented, and Felix was surprised that they had answered, initially getting the impression that they wouldn't divulge anything about themself. "But, gods, I feel a lot older today." They put out the cigar and dropped in into a small bag that hung from their belt, next to a flask that Felix guessed to hold alcohol of some kind, a compass, and their knife.

Felix eyed Vieno, trying to be discreet about it. "Well, hell, you look good for sixty-four." _Especially considering how much you drink._

"Thank you," they replied.

They got across the river finally, two days later at a spot where it was smaller and slower, all pushing the carriage through so it wouldn't stick in the soft ground. They ate fish those last few days, something Felix didn't usually like, but which tasted better now it had been so long since he'd eaten any. With the lack of variety in available food, they had come to appreciate every new plant or edible root they happened to find, and every pinch of salt they decided to spare for particularly boring meals. Rhea had even bravely tried a mushroom yesterday, despite the fact she usually hated them, and had to admit that it was all right after all.

Another river lay before them, but it was shallow enough that they barely had to search for where they could cross. The land soon turned rocky, less flat, and the trees diminished to a few mountains just north of them.

"This Matoya apparently lives in the mountains," Felix said.

"Perhaps you should try to find her first before we lug the casket back and forth," Vieno suggested.

Felix nodded. "We'd have to split up, then."

"Loki and I do slow you down some," Rhea admitted. "But between the two of us, we should have enough spells to ward off anything that wanders up here, and I don't think much will."

Felix thought it over, "Me, you," he pointed to Lothar, "and you," at Vieno, "go, then? I hate asking you to come, but it would be best to have someone who can heal some, for a worst case scenario," he continued, gazing at the oldest party member. Vieno didn't seem at all surprised that he asked them to go, and even seemed happy as they agreed.

* * *

Two paths lay before them, each surrounded by high, sheer cliffs.

"West looks easier," Felix said. Lothar shrugged.

"No, we should go this way," Vieno said, pointing down the path that led east.

"How do you know? Is there some kind of invisible road sign?" Felix asked. "That way looks harder, anyways."

"Exactly. Matoya would probably live down a road less travelled if she likes privacy. My gut tells me this is right." Lothar shrugged again, already heading down the path Vieno indicated. "See? Even the mute agrees."

"You had better be right," Felix said, shaking a finger at them on his way past them, casting one last glance to the other, straight road, then trudging his way up the steep climb behind Lothar.

* * *

"Was I right, or was I right?" Vieno nudged Felix with an elbow.

"Ugh, you were right, but you had no way of knowing that."

"Oh really?" They passed by him to continue up the last part of the path, the steepest, that led up to a cave opening that had decorations around it, a sign that at least somebody lived here.

The cave led down, also quite steeply, turned a sharp corner, then opened to a great cavern below them. They all held tightly to the stalagmites and stalactites, which connected in some places to form convenient pillar, so they wouldn't so quickly lose their footing on the slippery rock. A small pool rested near the bottom, surrounded by mushrooms and moss, and a drip echoed around them.

Lothar slipped, went down right before the bottom, skidding into the shallow pool and leaving a trail of stone behind him devoid of the plants that had clung to it before. He got up, wiped the fungi and moss from his pant leg, stained green where it smeared, then clambered out of the pool, in a much worse mood than usual.

"Where is this Matoya?"

As if on cue, a swishing noise approached them from around one dark corner. They turned, expecting to see a person, but instead saw a broom. A broom which was completely alone; also very busy.

"What on earth?" Lothar muttered.

The broom swept its way towards them and proceeded to brush off Lothar's shoes. "Messy-messy-messy…" came a nasal voice that, despite all common sense, they had to assume was the broom.

"Get off." Lothar pushed the broom aside, and it swept Vieno's shoes, then Felix's. "Messy-messy-messy."

"How…unique," Vieno said, then grinned. "I guess having animal familiars has gotten too cliché."

"What, so witches are turning kitchen objects into pets now?" Felix muttered, as the broom turned sideways and began sweeping his breastplate, covered in dust from many days on the mountain roads. Vieno just continued to where the broom had come from.

An ornately carved door stood before them, a few domestic pots sitting next to it. They knocked, and when no answer came, they opened the door and walked in.

"Oh good gods," Felix muttered. It was a congregation of brooms, sweeping around a room lined with potted plants and the skulls of many animals and various monsters, some of which looked frighteningly like human skulls. At the end sat a marble table, a woman in the chair behind it.

"A broom reunion?" Vieno asked. "Do you all come from the same 'family tree' then, or something?" they jokingly asked one particularly busy broom as it brushed past, muttering, "Noisy-noisy-noisy," as it went. "Mm, I guess they don't like conversation that much."

Felix walked down the long room towards the woman before him. He had been expecting a withered, ancient old woman, but the one before him could have passed for his age, only twenty-four, perhaps even younger. Her face was long and narrow, with a square jaw and strong chin, well-defined cheekbones, a sharp-angled nose, full lips, and exotic, oddly slanted eyebrows. Her skin was a light caramel, her hair rich and dark, like chocolate, flowing down her back in lazy waves, brushed aside thoughtlessly from her forehead.

She wore a round, red silk cap that he thought might have been a scarf, worn similarly to how Dimas wore his own, and some of the hair near her face had been braided, small beads in them, and tied out of the way. Her dress was of the same red, looking magnificent with her colouring, and even cut without any shape of its own, it couldn't hide hers. There were beaded ribbons and necklaces around her neck, rings with glowing gems like the one Vieno wore, but he had a feeling these things were for magical purposes, not for appearance, because her eyes, stunning as they might have been, large and black, shining brightly in the dim light, and framed by long lashes, had pure white pupils, though no cloudy mist was apparent, and they had a blank stare.

Felix was intrigued a bit by the realization Matoya was blind. She turned her head to him despite this, giving him look for look with those pupil-less eyes. He immediately thought of his father when she did. His father was blind, had been the entirety of his life. But Felix found that the older man was more aware of most things he did than people who could see him do them. He had never been able to sneak past his father, and every movement he made was registered – the man heard his every breath, could practically feel every movement another made in the room, so it seemed; he didn't need to see Felix blush, or smile, to know if he was embarrassed or happy, it was as though he could feel the change in temperature even just in Felix's hands, which he always held.

So it wasn't much of a surprise to him when Matoya held out one of her hands, and he placed his own in it, nor when she said, "Three travellers from abroad, state your names."

_

* * *

_

AN:

_For any who might be interested, or wondering why Vieno is such an awesome fighter compared to the rest of the party, the explanation is simply that Vieno is supposed to have the skills, stats and magic of a red wizard, as opposed to a red mage. Vieno's equipment and magic are as follows: Ribbon, Gold Armlet (bracelet), Protect Ring, Buckler, Silver Sword, Cure spells 1-3, Fire/Lightning/Ice spells 1-3, Life, Invis., Pure (antidote), Exit, Temper and Fog. I just thought it would be fun to explain what some of this stuff looked like while the rest of the party still has the boring, crappy leather/wooden stuff._

_The chapters are probably going to get longer from here on out, most likely around this length or more – I don't know how I managed to keep them so short before, but it's more fun when I let myself drag on a little; they have more interesting conversations that way. _

_Hope everyone continues to enjoy this, the next chapter should be up soon!_


	11. Heart of the Mystic

Chapter Eleven: Heart of the Mystic

"Felix."

"Lothar."

"Vieno."

"Matoya…. You come seeking my wisdom."

Felix had expected her to say more, expected something a little more elaborate from a person so mysterious and ethereal, but it seemed her silence was part of her mystery. "We come seeking to revive a warrior who has fallen in battle. A warrior of legend," he told her, figuring she might be less annoyed at the request if it came for someone who was more than an average person.

"You do not need to speak so elegantly," she told him with a smile. "Nor do you need to explain. I already know what has transpired. _And who you are._"

She said this last with a dark tone. Her head turned as though she looked behind Felix with her glassy stare. He had noticed that she never blinked. He turned to see that she was directly facing Vieno, whom Lothar stepped away from, and who was holding their hat in an unconscious attempt to shield themself with their arm. "Why have you brought this evil one here?" Matoya stood suddenly and slammed the tabletop with her thin hands, with far more force than Felix had expected. "You are a blight of humanity, a mistake!" Her pointing finger was raised to Vieno, and being long and thin and tipped with an oddly dark nail, it looked sharp and dangerous somehow. Remembering that she had magic, Felix wondered if he should be afraid. The brooms around the room, sweeping happily before, collapsed like puppets dropped from their strings, the clatter of wood on stone ringing throughout the room. The air swirled, dark and heavy.

"You are nothing but a blank slate, no skills or weaknesses or desires written into your person. You are not fully human, just an impersonation, without gender or mind or purpose. Your body cannot tell if it is tuned to magic or strength; your mind cannot tell if it is tuned to dark or bright arts. You're caught between the worlds of dark and light, a torn, unfinished soul riddled with blank holes. Where brightness should be, you are beheld only as a black void! It is dark in my Sight. You would never have any place – I cannot believe any would have chosen to have you live, be they gods or parents!" The mystic's voice had risen in volume and pitch until she shrieked at the top of her lungs. "_What hellish freak of nature and heavens do I receive to my front door?_"

Felix wanted to say something, anything, in Vieno's defence, but felt his cowardice come to play. Why was he always so unable to keep a cool head? He panicked when facing danger, and shrunk before a strong-willed adversary. Vieno, of course, said nothing, stood with their hat pulled down over their face, their heart slamming in their chest, the force unbearable, and their lungs devoid of breath when they forgot to breathe.

It was Lothar, the quiet, reserved Lothar, who may have often been coldly uncivil, but had barely even frowned in anger since Felix had met him, who knocked the table over, grabbed Matoya by the collar of her loose-fitting dress with both fists curled into the fabric, lifted her off her feet and roared, "You knock it off! _Whatever it is you think you see in Vieno with your stupid Sight,_ _**IT'S WRONG!**_"

He dropped her to her feet, and although Felix expected her to tumble unceremoniously to the floor, she instead seemed to flash before reaching the ground, and was found again on her feet in a rush of bright light, hands folded neatly before her as though nothing had happened. Felix blinked, confused at what he thought he had just seen. She tilted her head down, half-shielding her eyes behind her brows, and giving Lothar the look of a disappointed parent to a misbehaving child, without ever really altering a single feature of her face.

She lifted her right hand, long, thin, bony fingers strained as they pressed together at the tips, she snapped her fingers, far too loudly to have been just a finger snap… and the brooms just slowly rose and began their sweeping, the marble table back in its exact previous location, despite Felix's certainty that it had been in a few pieces lying much further to his left a moment ago. Her hand lowered, and Felix felt himself sigh in relief.

"I'll go." He didn't need to see them to know they would leave, and not come back, hearing the gentle tapping of their leather boots as they retreated.

Felix turned. "Don't." He whispered it, though he knew Matoya would hear, and heard Vieno stop at the door to lean against the wall, arms crossed and face mostly concealed behind a popped collar and tilted hat, leaving only their mouth revealed, in a thin, tight line. Felix didn't know why, but he felt safer with Vieno around, and there was some comfort in the fact that Matoya feared them.

The woman continued as though nothing had happened. "The answers you seek are entwined in the essence of time, as are many things you are to encounter, you will find. This means they are lost to us. You may check in the tomes behind me, if you desire, but I don't believe there will be many answers for you there."

"Can we even read them?" Felix asked.

"If you have the ability to read, then yes."

"Well, I can," Felix told the other two. He thought they had to at least try, though literacy was a novelty in their world.

Vieno coughed into a fist, and said awkwardly, "Actually, so can I."

They waited, and Lothar fidgeted one foot around, "Uh, well… _I_ can't. Guess I'll be pretty useless." He scratched at the short blond hairs on the back of his head.

Vieno's mouth, still visible, could be seen grinning, the light wrinkles of their dimples deepening. "Lothar, you're adorable."

Lothar's face twisted into a confused mask, and he turned with a look that clearly asked, _Did you just say that? Really?_

"I think you have a different idea of 'adorable' than most people, Vieno," Felix whispered.

"The answers may be beyond us. But not to all. May I bring this fallen warrior?" Matoya asked.

"Well, we left him with two others," Felix started, "and we wouldn't want –"

"I will bring them as well." She snapped her fingers again, and a noise outside made them turn. Vieno had already gone, so the other two went after them, not looking back to the witch.

Outside the cave, they found Rhea, staring bewildered at them, next to the deel, and Loki, crouched on the top of the carriage, clutching it with all four paws, leaving gouges in the wood. Its eyes were perfectly circular, reflecting back at them accusingly, as though it knew its fright was their fault.

Felix walked by, passing close to Rhea as he did so. After a look in her own very round eyes, he pointed at her, said, "Don't even. If you think you're shocked, then it's nothing compared to what we've seen in the last ten minutes."

Dimas's casket was eventually placed before the mystic, who placed her hands carefully on the top and closed her glassy eyes, for the first time Felix had seen. "He is not gone. But he is very lost. There must be a way to call him back – something that holds some of his power. Anything. Does he have someone here he is very close to?"

Felix shrugged. "We were sort of friends. But I haven't known him for too long."

A broom had brushed its way over to Vieno, who was giggling as their legs were brushed off of any dust. Matoya 'looked' over to them, as they ran a gentle hand over the broom handle's polished surface. Vieno looked up too, and their gazes seemed to lock. Oddly enough, it was Matoya who broke it off, swallowing uncomfortably and looking back at the dead teen before her.

"What's that?" The gentle, genderless voice was Vieno's, and Felix looked over his shoulder to see them talking to the broom, apparently.

The broom's voice was more of a mumble, as opposed to the bright and happy tone it normally had. "Heart-to-heart-heart-to-heart-heart-to-heart-to-heart-to-heart-to…"

"The broom speaks your answers," Matoya told them.

"I thought you were controlling the brooms," Lothar said. Rhea stood next to him, staring at the brooms with wide eyes as they made their ways past her.

"I channel power to the brooms. They are spirits, inhabiting their chosen bodies. They may have many answers you seek." The broom was still continuing its chant, though it was meshed into a garbled set of words now, order forgotten. "Something of hearts. Perhaps it speaks of love."

"Or these." Rhea's hand fiddled with the crystal heart that hung from her left ear.

"His crystal heart," Felix mumbled, "to his heart?" The young man's hand travelled to the necklace that lay on his new friend's collar, one of black wires that twisted together around the blue gem at the front.

"Go outside," Matoya told them.

They went out via the back to the ledge that jutted out at the top of the mountain, a wooden platform built over it. Felix carried Dimas up, laid the youth down on the boards, then reached around his neck to undo the necklace. He felt uncomfortable, seeing the boy for the first time since he'd left him with the church overnight. Even though it had been a month since his death, he looked bright and fresh as though he were in deep sleep. They had cleaned him apparently, his face actually a lighter golden brown, rather than the darker, but dingier, brown it had been before; changed him into white clothes, which were long pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a high collar. Felix grinned, since he didn't think they normally put gloves and scarves on people before burials, like they had here… in fact, they had also put on a headscarf, a new, white one.

Felix frowned just as the necklace clicked and came undone. Why would they have covered him up so completely? He placed the necklace lower down on Dimas' chest, and thought he saw the gem, which was a dark, dull blue, throb.

"You don't think you have to shove it into his heart?" Vieno asked jokingly. Felix looked up to glare at them, just as a bright light flared out from the crystal heart. He looked back down at it and thought it shimmered a little, which it hadn't done before.

"Does he need healing?" Rhea asked. She knelt next to Dimas, touched her hands to his neck and forehead. "He's still…dead? Well what did that do?"

"It called him back." Matoya had come onto the platform as well. "He is not too lost now. It showered him with the immortal blessing he needs to come back to life, but it itself did not revive him."

"I have a spell that's supposed to be able to bring things back to life," Vieno pitched in. "It's taught only to a few. My master was a little too lenient with it, I thought, but I've never tried to use it, anyway."

"Try," Rhea told them firmly. Felix raised an eyebrow at her bossy tone.

Vieno chuckled. "I've said it before, but I'll say it again. Anything for you, dear." They closed their eyes and concentrated, their hands glowing with light that was less pink, like healing magic, and more purple. Matoya stood behind Lothar and Felix. Rhea backed away from Dimas' body to avoid any magical discharge, pulled Loki, who had curled up next to the familiar face, with her.

Rhea began to wonder if it had maybe not been a good idea when the light clouds in the sky turned darker and darker grey and roiled above them, the air around Vieno twisting. Vieno's short cape whipped in a wind that was concealed in a round knot around them, their hat flew off, and Lothar caught it, their untied hair twirled. The air itself turned heavy and purple, and Rhea pulled up her travelling cape, attempting to breathe through it to avoid taking in the thick purple gas. There was a crack, and Rhea jumped, looked up at the sky with circular eyes to see the flash of lightning. _Why would a life spell cause lightning? Did Vieno do something wrong?_

The blue gem on Dimas' chest flashed and began to shoot off light in a steady pulse that seemed to mimic a heartbeat. Water droplets sprayed out from the water-heart in all directions, and Rhea felt the cool spots appear on her face. Then more and more. She saw streamlets of water run out and pour in runnels down Dimas' sides, wetting his shirt, pooling under him. And then more. Water gushed into being and sprayed out at them like a fountain, sputtering and shooting out, and then finally pouring in waves outwards, falling down the sides of the platform like a waterfall. Then more…

If this kept up, they would be swept off the platform. She got up, slipped in the water, which ran over her feet up to her ankles, and grabbed Vieno around the waist, slipped down, but continued to hold them by the hips, and attempted to push them. They didn't respond, and Rhea could feel the magic rip its way out of their mind. She could feel their life force too, and noticed that it was smaller than hers, or anyone else's. She began to worry they were too old to do this, got up to shake their shoulders, shouted at them to stop…

A glowing figure gilded in gold appeared, topped by great silver and gold wings, with a wingspan of more than three men. All around them, everything was pale blue, gold and pink, like a sunrise, and a heavy silence fell on Rhea's ears. Rhea looked up and was totally in awe. All she saw was the gentle face, long, dark-skinned, but with pale eyes, partially obscured by the long, straight silver hair that floated before it, and a halo of light that burst around the head. A hand reached down, a long thin finger touched the spot between Dimas's eyes…

It disappeared, and everything was grey and dark purple again. The sound of the rushing water filled her ears and turned to white noise, and she wondered if perhaps it had been just an illusion. Dimas' body jerked and began shivering in the cold water. The water stopped gushing from the crystal quite suddenly, just trickling now. _Shivering?_

She closed her eyes, slipped down in relief…then realized with an embarrassed start that she still had her arms wrapped around Vieno's hips, her head rested on their front. They helped her up, grinning at her dark blush. The wrinkles of their face, normally quite fine, seemed a little deeper, their expression tighter. Rhea reached up with both hands, touched them to either side of Vieno's face, and let a light healing mist seep from between her fingers, watching their expression soften. Then she went to Dimas and did the same for him. His heart thudded firmly in his chest and his body trembled, wet in the cool breeze. The clouds above them had broken up.

"Come inside," Matoya said, eyeing Vieno closely with some admiration as they retrieved their hat from Lothar and stuck it firmly back on their head. Felix picked Dimas up, holding onto the necklace with one finger. They followed the witch, filing after her to re-enter the cave.

* * *

The deel was in the main cavern near the pool, feeding on the handfuls of long grasses someone collected for it every day, the cart with it. They all stayed in the small hollow spaces carved out of the west wall, hanging sheets in front for privacy, with food placed on their small tables every morning. Dimas shared a space with Rhea, their beds side-by-side, so she could be there for him in the night, to help with the bouts of chills or burning fever. Matoya was usually nowhere to be found, even in the large room of bones and brooms they had first seen her in.

Loki crawled through the damp cave, loving the escape from sunlight, not having to hide under a straw hat. It climbed up the stalactites hanging from above, balanced on the stalagmites on the ground, jumping from one to another. It crawled into the room full of bones and played with them, then stopped when the human in red walked in, looking towards it with her weird eyes.

Loki paused and hissed, curling in its arms to hide a bone it had stolen, afraid of this being, as magical as it was, perhaps even more so. It was always afraid of others who had the dark arts – even the old one made Loki uncomfortable – but not as much as this one. But she walked to Loki with an outstretched hand. "Shh. It's okay." She reached out, pet it with a gentle hand, then felt the bone in its hand and smiled. "Oh. You want to keep that? Go on, then." Her hands brushed over the chain that hung in a few loops over Loki's shoulders like a necklace and the small bronze discs that were clipped onto it still. She examined the engravings carved onto one with her fingers.

"_Ilokivarla_?" she asked. It was said with the inflections of Loki's language, and it purred happily in response.

Another night, Vieno, unable to sleep, walked out into the main cavern, eyes following the lines and shapes faintly marked out by the dim lighting of a few glowing orbs that hovered a few inches from the cave walls, without any suspension. They nearly touched a finger to one, then thought better of it. They continued to pick their way over the uneven surface towards the brooms' room.

They pushed the door open slightly, heading towards the chair and marble table near the back, just wanting to sit down and have a drink near the fireplace. Then they started in surprise at the sight of Matoya standing at the side of the room, near the rack of brooms that currently hung motionless. Vieno froze, then began to walk backwards to the door. The door shut firmly just before they got there. Vieno swallowed, feeling their mouth go dry in anticipation of whatever was to come.

"I owe you an apology." Matoya's eyes stared blankly into a void before her. "I was wrong about you, I think."

"Oh really?" Vieno's hands had slipped from their pockets, and felt like weights on the ends of their arms. "And what made you come to this conclusion?" Matoya paused a moment to savour the sound of Vieno's gentle voice a moment before answering.

"You… confound my Sight. Most people, I can see into. With you… it is as though there is a sheet in my way, separating us, and try as I might, I cannot See through it. You do appear as a void. But the void is in my Vision. You are not dark, just blocked from me." Matoya frowned; she didn't seem particularly pleased that she could not See quite _everything_ as she wanted. Vieno was surprised by just how pretty the woman was at that moment, and their body responded with the rare tingling excitement in the pit of their stomach.

"There's nothing wrong with your Vision," Vieno said. "You're just trying to See things that aren't there. You seek answers within me that don't have answers with me. I am not always one or another, sometimes I just _am_. And I'm not 'neither one or another', I'm usually 'both.'"

Matoya was used to being the odd one, and though she liked the idea of meeting someone who had 'layers' in her mind's Sight, not just a sheet spread out for her to read, she couldn't quite believe that it was true. Vieno was too interesting, too out of reach in her mind. "That doesn't make any sense. One can only be…"

Feeling bold, Vieno walked towards Matoya, cutting her off short, and placing their aged hands, complete with the darkened skin at the tips of the fingers from many years of the use of magic, and a cross-pattern of scars from many years practising with and using a sword, on either side of her face. Her skin was like velvet, and the silk of her dress was cool against the arm Vieno leaned against her shoulder. "Perhaps, I'm just beyond your comprehension." Hoping it wasn't coming too out of the blue, they bent their head and brushed their lips against Matoya's.

That, at least, Matoya had seen coming, though she didn't close her eyes. Though Vieno knew she couldn't actually see them, it was still a tad disconcerting. Matoya's hands quickly ran over Vieno's face, piecing together what she thought Vieno probably looked like.

There was a flash of indecision in Vieno's mind. They had skirted around each other the few times they had come across one another in the last few days, and Vieno thought there had been some mutual attraction. But though Vieno was one for free and casual love, they didn't wish to hurt others – were they setting Matoya up for desiring something she probably couldn't have again, if she lived the rest of her days out here, alone?

But one look at the woman's smiling face reassured Vieno she knew what she was doing, and wanted them, too. Vieno thought they knew why, as well. They were unique, someone with whom Matoya might have to guess what was the right thing to say, or what it was they desired. And people were always curious, exactly how would Vieno make love to them without them gaining some insight about their body?

The lights popped out, the previously glowing orbs dark, though it didn't really matter, but Matoya probably realized it would make Vieno more comfortable. In the near pitch black, Vieno's hands roamed over their partner's body, finding the ties that held her dress together and undoing them, and kissing the bare flesh that emerged between the fabric as they slowly parted the front and sides of the gown.

Vieno was relieved of their red coat; hat; boots; belt, sword and purse and all; and eventually their loose, grey blouse. Matoya's hand slipped down their front, nearly inside their pants, when they took her hand and stopped her. "Not like that. You understand, I'm sure," Vieno whispered in a ragged breath, attempting to sound apologetic, their own hand tracing a path up Matoya's leg.

Matoya was laid back totally naked on the marble table. She abandoned the ethereal world that surrounded her, that normally filled her day, in favour of the physical one before her now. Vieno's breath was hot on her neck, travelling down her chest, their long hair feathery light over her breasts, one warm leg pressed firmly against her knee, a callused hand moving insistently between her thighs.

The woman's old age, though in her case it didn't show in her face, shined through in her fearless touches and obvious experience. Though Vieno only allowed Matoya to touch them in a few places, they nevertheless found themself turned on by the gentle caress of her hands travelling lightly over the small of their back, and sometimes a bit lower, her mouth kissing them sensually on the neck, the jaw, the nose and cheeks. Then back to the lips. Vieno always found that kissing was very erotic to them, more than most other things they tried, since there was also some comfort in it…

They always had to worry about their partner's hands touching them there, or if they saw them in the light, and Vieno was normally too uncertain to actually remove their pants. Just once, they'd like to be with someone where they could be themself, without having to worry about hiding something, but they could never bring themself to actually allow someone to see them.

The thought alone of someone actually seeing them naked, actually touching them, brought Vieno to the peak of their pleasure. They felt the excitement build, higher, and _higher, HIGHER_, then felt it tumble to the ground, bringing them back to earth, and reality. They found themself in a cold dark room, their head buried into Matoya's neck, their hand still resting against the damp spot between her legs. Matoya's head was turned to the side, her dark hair flung over Vieno's back, mixing with Vieno's silver locks. Vieno lay still for a while longer in the mystic's embrace, collecting their thoughts and calming their shaky breathing, and then daydreaming.

* * *

Vieno didn't see Matoya again after that, until the day they all chose to leave. It was obvious that Dimas wouldn't exactly 'wake up,' despite all of Rhea's efforts, so Felix took the top off the casket and they put him in there, complete with pillows and blankets for warmth. It was better that way, because the sides kept him in and they chained the casket down again so it wouldn't tumble over on bumpy roads. Rhea stayed inside the cart with him.

Loki liked to ride on top of the cart, and it seemed the deel had gotten used to the creature's presence as it would leap off, then come back a while later to jump on it again, shaking the cart and the deel's harness. There were many white marks where its claws had taken out hunks of wood, scratching through the stained surface and revealing the light wood beneath.

Just as they moved down the path from the cavern, Matoya came down, holding the handle of a broom that pointed out horizontally, and they realized it was guiding her, another broom sweeping the ground before her of any pebbles.

"I came to say goodbye," Matoya said, staring blankly ahead past them.

"Eyedoog yas ot emac ehs," muttered the broom sweeping around her feet.

"What?" Vieno stared at the broom, wondering if spirits could be plain stupid.

"This one always speaks backwards," Matoya explained.

"Sdrawkcab, sdrawkcab," it chanted.

"I still haven't figured out why. But I wished to ask something of you."

"You, as in… all of us?" Vieno whispered. "Not just me, surely."

Matoya smiled coyly. "Any of you. I had the Crystal Eye once; it's an ancient relic created by the Lefeinish, the ancient people from the northern lands. It was given to me by one I knew once, to let me See better, and to see things around me somewhat. But it was taken from me by Astos. Considering that he is a being of darkness, I thought perhaps you might fight him one day. If you do, I would like it if you could return the Eye to me. If he even still has it. And perhaps I could See something for you in return."

"Okay. What does it look like?" Felix asked.

"It is cut into a diamond shape, with an eye carved onto the front. It has a purple back. It isn't very large. Could I maybe send my broom with you to get it?"

"Oh, I don't know." Felix tried to avoid looking at the annoying thing, feeling guilty.

"I could look for this Astos," Vieno said.

They heard a voice in their head that sounded just like Matoya's, but that echoed, and that no one else seemed to hear. "We don't owe each other anything. That night was only for fun. We are friends, perhaps, but not lovers."

"I know that, but I'm offering as a friend."

Felix looked sidelong at them. "Vieno, what –?"

"Nothing."

"Well, then can it go with you?" She held the backwards-talking broom out to Vieno.

"Uh, I guess." Vieno took it, set it hovering beside them where it proceeded to sweep and mutter, "Nuf on. Eye eht dnif."

"Yes," Vieno muttered absently, patting the broom's handle, having absolutely no idea what it was saying.

* * *

Rhea stayed with Dimas, continuing to heal him, and feeding him liquefied food that she could spend an hour grinding. She only saw the others during the evenings, and she spent the day reading some of the books Vieno had brought.

Eventually, she collected a bowl of water, heated it, and brought it into the cart to wash Dimas off while she checked him over for bedsores. But when she removed his shirt, she froze at the sight of his skin. She pulled off his gloves as well to see if his hands were the same, and was shocked to see the same damage. Rhea felt guilty, as though she'd seen something she shouldn't have, but if she was to do the healing for the group, then she supposed she would have seen it eventually. So she stripped him bare, blushing a little as she did so and draping a blanket over his hips and hoping no one else would come in at that moment, washed him over with a rag, and covered him up again, even wrapping the scarf lightly around his neck, pulling the blanket up to cover his hands.

They continued south, past the rivers, then back to the mountain pass they had parted from the Quadrin caravan from. The only other way was east, so they turned that way, soon reaching a desert-like patch of land with cracked, dry earth and blowing grains of sand every which way. Rhea stayed holed up in the cart even more often than normal, and combed the sand out of Loki's fur every night.

"There's a port town a little further east," Vieno said, walking casually, their hands in their pockets, next to Rhea.

"Yeah, Pravoka, right? It's been forever since I've been in an actual town. How long has it been?" She asked.

"Uh, two months, maybe, since we left Cornelia?" Vieno guessed.

"Oh, gods," she muttered.

"See, sis?" Lothar muttered, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "I told you you'd get used to travelling eventually. You'd never know that she used to be all fussy about having a bath every night, and getting her hair done, and all that," he told them, pointing to her with his other hand.

She knocked it away. "Don't even."

None of them had realized how much they'd missed civilization until they came across a wooden sign with PRAVOKA carved into it, the letters shallow after years of the wood fading away, paint worn off to just a green and red stain. Rhea felt the excitement bubble up in her chest as she forced Loki into its blue robe, and to stand up a little straighter.

Pravoka was sparsely populated, with few people actually living in it, but with many who stayed for weeks at a time while they were docked there, selling off their wares and buying new things from the merchants, who made up most of the permanent residents, and restocking for new journeys south. The houses were old, scattered around, hugging the coastline in a sprawling state. Everything was on high walkways of stone which could only be reached by a few stairways, the few buildings that weren't on the stone suspended on stilts, with rivers being redirected into the canals that eventually emptied into the sea via locks that helped the ships get to different parts of the bay. It was all very confusing to them, as none of them really knew anything of ships.

"Let's just try to get to the inn and sleep," Felix muttered. They left the deel and carriage on the ground level with the storage buildings next to the docking stations, and had Dimas lifted up in the casket and all by a pulley, then had their belongings pulled up the same way and piled on a trolley by a man with a very depressed expression on his face. They found the inn, though there had been no one in the streets to ask for directions. Felix held the door open for them, then entered behind them and closed the swinging door with a loud creak.


	12. Bikke's Gang

Chapter Twelve: Bikke's Gang

The inn they stayed at was comfortable enough: tile floors, brick walls on the outside with wood planks on the inside – nothing was made entirely of wood here despite the abundance of it, or the heavy rains would rot it out. Such rains were seasonal for this early winter weather, and they found there was no going outside without wide-brimmed hats and oiled cloaks, one set of which was bought for each of them.

Vieno had merged with the caravaners not long after they'd entered the inn to see a familiar throng of foreign people in black trench coats taking over half of the inn's common room. They had sat down at a small table in the corner occupied only by Saundra, Donatien, and a young man with short-cut dark hair and black eyes that looked to pass for one of the Pravokans. Once the others had Dimas settled in a room upstairs, they took over one table near the middle.

Loki was holding up its soup bowl, slurping up the stew, and licking the bottom when some of the gravy leaked from a crack in the ceramic bowl.

"Stop it!" Rhea hissed, smacking down Loki's arm. "People will notice," she said to the men's questioning looks. "No one's table manners are _that_ bad."

"Sure they are," Lothar argued.

"The people here travel a lot, and talk to other people who travel a lot, so maybe we can hear something about the crystals," Felix said almost absent-mindedly to himself. "There's one at Melmond, too, right? You guys wouldn't happen to know where it is, do you?"

Rhea shrugged. "Everyone there knows where the Terra Cavern is. That one won't be a problem. But we need a way of getting there. Ships alone won't take us far enough."

"You have any ideas, Lothar?"

"Uh, no…" He stared at the table where Vieno and the Quadrin guards were positioned until he was waved over by Saundra with a grin, then blushed and fumbled clumsily with his things and tangled up the dark purple scarf around his neck in an attempt to straighten it, until Rhea and Felix admonished him loudly for _not_ going over, and practically forced him out of his chair. "Gee, one would think you two don't want me here," Lothar joked as he attempted to steady his voice and let his face pale a little before taking a chair and sitting between Saundra and Donatien.

"Well, I'll talk to the guys at the docks tomorrow," Felix said. "I'm sure you'll be busy at the Bright Temple."

"Oh, right," Rhea nodded. "Don't you also need to get a new sword?"

Felix dropped his gaze. "Yeah, we'll see about that. I'd rather get mine fixed." She nodded understandingly. Then they sat in an awkward silence and focused on their dinner.

Lothar settled in the chair somebody had provided, received a "Hi!" from the friendly Saundra, who immediately returned to an excited and fast-paced conversation with a guy at the table next to them, and turned shyly to Donatien. "Um, hello again."

Donatien somehow reminded Lothar of a cat in how he was always so quiet, but always present, and graceful; once, at the inn at Cornelia, just as they were coming in, before he knew either of them or had even gotten the innkeeper's attention to purchase a room, Lothar had seen him in a moment of adventurous spontaneity take Saundra up on a dare to slide down the stair rail, which spiralled to span three floors, and end up sliding off the end at the bottom to stand on his feet, only to jump at the sight of Lothar and slink shyly away.

He hadn't been sure when he was first shaking their hands if it was actually them he had seen in the dimly lit hallway moments before, but he had spent some time on the road just after crossing the Cornelian bridge talking to the caravaners, and was now pretty sure that it couldn't have been anyone else.

Donatien was also striking in his appearance. With his dark clothes, a long-sleeved, light grey shirt, navy blue vest and black trousers today, and skin as black as ebony, he stood out as a dark figure that always seemed to hang in the background. And although Lothar knew it was rude, he always found himself staring.

He had never in Melmond seen anyone so dark, and was entranced by his skin, which looked blue-black in the dark lighting, but appeared as a warm brown in the sun, by his coal black eyes that reflected the light of the fireplace in such a way that they appeared to sparkle, by his hair that didn't hang loose and straight like Rhea's, or Lothar's when it hadn't been cut, but in frizzy tight curls when it was tied back like when he first met him, or hung in short braids today that reached to between his earlobes and his chin with colourful beads at the ends. He had a strong jaw, and a large mouth, and an intense gaze, and…

Lothar realized he was again staring and looked at a knot of wood in the table, felt his heart beat a little harder as it always did when he was embarrassed. From the corner of his vision, he saw Donatien's mouth spread slowly into a wide smile, his teeth very bright white against his dark skin, and wondered what he was thinking.

"Hello again," came the slow, smooth voice. Lothar looked over from the corner of his eye. "What are you doing here in Pravoka?"

He had never really thought they would have a conversation – with Donatien's quiet demeanour and his own apparent shyness, it hadn't seemed there would ever be a chance. But looking at the others at the table, he realised that other than Donatien, he was being very deliberately ignored; Saundra was turned so her back faced him, a few people were occupying the other chairs at their table, but were turned to see their friends, and Vieno was engaged deep in conversation with the unknown boy with them, giving Lothar what he thought looked like an encouraging wink, but might have just been them blinking at him, before looking away.

"It's complicated. My sister's doing… some stuff." He didn't really feel he could explain any of it without sounding stupid. "And then we need a way of going back to Melmond."

"You came here for a ship? The caravan, too. We are going south, I think. Elves are there."

"Do you guys trade with elves?"

"Some. There are a few trading posts along the shore, but we generally do not go far into Elven lands."

"Have the Quadrins ever gone so far as Melmond?" He had never paid much attention to traders or caravaners that arrived when he lived there, and wondered if the Quadrins had branches that went that far out – they might be able to travel with them.

"They used to, I think. The people here are from all over, so I assume they have travelled to these places to get recruits from there. How did you get here from Melmond in the first place?"

"We were with another caravan, actually. We came over the lands to the east – there's a network of rivers that wind through the mountains there, but they're infested with a lot of monsters. I don't really want to go that way again if I can help it."

Donatien nodded. "People here have mentioned that place. The Doredez live there."

"The what?"

"Doredez." Donatien finished off his ale and turned his chair to face Lothar a little better. "Wild people. They live around Mt. Gulg, and get around with boats, but they do not bother other people too much. Unless you go on their land."

"Another reason not to go that way."

"Perhaps it cannot be helped." Donatien shrugged. "Or perhaps you could ask for help from the elves."

"I really don't want to owe them a favour. I've heard enough stories of them."

Donatien nodded sombrely, as this only made sense. Elves stuck to themselves, mostly, and most humans were happy to let them continue doing so. "You will find a way."

* * *

The blacksmith had been impressed with the sword Felix brought in, but wouldn't know how to fix it properly. It was very old, he said, and was an interesting style, but it wasn't one he was very familiar with.

Felix wasn't very happy with the choice of weapons they had, either. There were a few swords that he considered buying, but everything else felt wrong in his hands. He'd been training with the same sword, and using it, his whole life. His father, born blind and unable to join the army, had never used the sword, which had been a family heirloom for generations, and so had given it to Felix as soon as he started training, as opposed to when he himself left the army at old age. There was also an axe there which felt so different in his hands that it wasn't quite as awkward, but in the end, he left without buying anything.

Rhea didn't have much more luck. The Bright Temple in Pravoka was very similar to the one in Cornelia: large windows and stained glass in the front let in ample lighting, the room was furnished in white, gold and pale greens and pinks, everything was very comfortable, the food was very good, the people were very nice, and their training was minimal.

"But I need a better healing spell," Rhea told them.

"I'm afraid that we can't teach you any better healing magic here than in Cornelia," the older man told her apologetically. "There _are_ better ones, but I don't know where you can find them."

She resigned herself to the study of other spells that might help her companions, but really wasn't pleased with what she saw. She paid for the spells anyway, but left feeling disappointed and inadequate.

Only more disappointment was to be found at the docks. There were many places that ships in this region travelled to: Cornelia, Pravoka, small settlements along the western Cornelian shore, further west than that to the few human towns near Mt. Duergar, south from there to the old townships that had been established after a war with the elves, where humans and elves lived side-by-side, even to the Elven lands, but there were no ships going straight east to cross the small stretch of land and reload onto another ship to go to Melmond and beyond, like they had many years ago. It was odd; Felix knew of Melmond, and had heard people talk of going there many years ago, but it seemed that people had stopped going there, less and less travellers bothering, until no one did, and no ships did either.

He knew they could get there one way or another – Rhea and Lothar had managed to get over, but not without a bevy of stories describing how awful it was. And few other Melmondans had been seen here for a long time. There was a reason why everyone who saw them noted them as beautiful, and foreign, and with odd accents, and odd fashion sense.

* * *

The pub across the street from the inn was a little rougher-looking than they liked, but Felix needed a drink bad enough that he was willing to put up with the supposed "pirates" when they came in, a loud bunch who yelled crude jokes across the room to each other, and spoke far too loud even when sitting side-by-side. But apparently, Lothar, who had not been around all day, and wouldn't answer as to where he had been, had a headache, and wanted some peace and quiet.

"Hey, do you fucking mind?" he snapped at one particularly loud guy next to him, a tall, muscular man with a bandanna tied to look like a gang's, a scar on his face, tattoos on his arms, a very obvious dagger in his pocket… all things that would generally discourage anyone from picking a fight with him. Felix wasn't in a great mood, and had never gotten along with Lothar that well – he couldn't care less at this point if he got flattened against a wall with a barstool through his head, but he wasn't pleased that the monk, as he had recently said he was, chose to pick such an adversary while sitting next to him.

"Lothar, what are you doing? Shut up," he hissed at him.

The man took his time answering, taking a long drink before doing so. "Ye got some kinda problem, princess?"

Lothar flushed at the nickname, seemed a little angrier at it, and looked drunk enough that he might do something stupid. So Felix got up and started to leave, then, knowing he did it for Rhea and not Lothar, thought to grab Lothar's arm and drag him with him.

Lothar yanked his arm back. "Leave me alone. I can take care of this."

"No. Stop being an idiot." He tried to grab at the older man's coat sleeve again.

"If I were you, I'd listen to my boyfriend and leave."

"Let go of me!" Lothar pulled free from Felix's hand.

"Fine! Go ahead, be stupid. But when he knocks a few of your teeth out, I'm gonna tell Rhea why he did, and we'll see if she'll bother fixing you up." Felix turned to the man with the bandanna. "I just noticed this guy's nose is crooked; when you punch him in the face, see if you can snap it straight." He finished his beer, his eyes never leaving the unchanging gaze of the other guy, then slammed it onto the counter and moved over to a low table near the corner.

From there, he couldn't hear what was said, but wondered if perhaps he should be worried that the pirates were suddenly talking in low tones. He saw the argument heat up, look like it was about to turn to blows, and saw Lothar, who was pretty short, even if he was muscular, dwarfed on all sides by much taller, much stronger-looking men. Wondering what the hell he was doing even as he did it, he got up and stood next to Lothar. "Lothar, maybe we should…" he trailed off, knowing by the looks on the other men's faces that whatever Lothar had said, there was no backing out now.

He was drunk enough that the chain of events was more a loose collection of thoughts when he looked back on it, with little discernible order.

First there was the moment when the pirate with the bandanna first grabbed Lothar, hit him over the head, and Lothar was wildly punching out at everyone around him. He saw Felix just stand there and yelled, "You could help!" just when they smashed his head against a table top. Felix threw one man over a table and watched him collapse into a heap of chair- and stool legs.

"I don't even like you!" he admitted.

Lothar grabbed Felix's shoulder and pushed him aside to hit someone who appeared to be trying to hit Felix over the head with a stool. "I know! I don't like you either."

At some point, he knew Rhea came in the front door and her squeal of fright had made Felix turn his head long enough to receive a stinging punch to the jaw. He had stumbled over to her, asked if she was alright while eyeing the man who stood next to her, and when he got a nod, he said, "Okay, good," a little too calmly, considering he had grabbed said man and slammed the back of his fist into his face.

Vieno was there, and although he wasn't sure how the pirates knew Vieno was a friend of theirs, he knew that was why they were tossed against a table to fall on their right arm to a sickening snap that told him it had broken again. Despite all this, Vieno refused to draw their sword or throw any punches, and was quite easily pushed around that way.

He remembered fighting back-to-back with Lothar, then turning to see him tossed against the bar counter and a broken chair leg swing into his face, leaving a bloody red mark on his face, blood pouring from his nose.

Felix eventually backed up and grabbed the tied-down hilt of his sword threateningly. "Let go of him."

He stared down one of the taller guys, hoping they wouldn't call his bluff, or see the strings tying down the broken hilt. "We don't want any trouble. Just let us leave."

They let Lothar go, and Felix propped up Vieno and ran out. Vieno pulled away once they were in the cool night air, clutching to their broken arm. "I'm going upstairs to take care of my arm." They rushed into the inn, face tight with pain, and Felix felt a stab of guilt, knowing they wouldn't have been hurt if it weren't for them. The dark-haired boy that seemed to keep showing up around Vieno left the pub and followed Vieno into the inn.

Felix and Lothar stood awkwardly for a minute, then a window upstairs opened and Vieno called out softy, "Hey, you two? Rhea's mad, just so you know."

Lothar swore softly, holding his nose with one hand. He looked at Felix. "You think it's broken?" He moved his fingers aside so Felix could see.

"I don't know. I can't tell."

"Is it crooked?" Lothar urged.

"Well, yeah, but your nose was always crooked."

"More than normal, I mean." Felix shrugged. "I'm sure it's fine, I guess."

With a sigh, Felix said, "No, let me see." Felix moved aside Lothar's hand and touched two fingers firmly to the bridge of Lothar's nose. "Does that hurt?"

"Ow! Yes."

"Then it's broken." Felix watched Lothar rub against the nose gently. "Are you gonna ask Rhea to heal it?"

"Nah, she's mad at me. I'll get another healer to do it."

"This late?"

"No, I'll wait until morning. I'm tired."

"It won't heal properly."

"Well, like you said, it's been crooked my whole life; it's not like they can make it look worse." Suddenly, he seemed to think of something. "Unless you could help me put it back in place."

"Oh, no, I don't think so," Felix started, having a bit of a bad stomach for that sort of thing.

"Come on," Lothar continued.

"Alright, but not if you're going to cry and whine."

"I'm not gonna cry," Lothar snapped indignantly.

"Okay." Felix curled one arm around Lothar's shoulders, stepped a little closer to him. Lothar's eyebrows went up. "You gotta stay still," Felix told him, holding the back of his head to make sure he did, and readjusted his nose with his other hand.

"Ah!" Tears leaked from Lothar's eyes.

"See, you're crying," Felix joked.

"It doesn't count if they're silent tears."

"Well, I'm sorry. Did you think I'd be able to do it without it hurting?"

The innkeeper appeared in the doorway of the inn in time to hear this, to see Lothar wiping his tearing eyes on the back of his hand, and Felix with his arm still around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, am I walking in on something here?"

Felix just frowned in confusion. Lothar stepped quickly out of the other man's reach, said, "_No_," and shuffled in the inn and upstairs. Felix went around the woman, who said, "The girl with you was worried, and asked me to see if you were okay…" ignoring her, and followed Lothar in and up the stairs to the room they shared. He unbuckled his belt, dropped it and his broken sword to the ground, took off his tunic and kicked off his boots, then wrapped himself in the heavy wool cover and watched Lothar struggle in his own bed sheets, toss and turn for a few minutes trying to fall asleep, as he always did, to collapse into a somewhat fitful slumber.

* * *

Vieno had stumbled into their room, closed the door with their foot and shrugged awkwardly out of their coat and long tunic, letting them lie where they fell, and propped their hat on the back of the chair, then stepped on the back of their boots as they pulled them off, kicking and bucking their legs one after another, the boots flying off in directions they didn't pay attention to. They sat stiffly on the bed, pulled their arm out straight, and let some healing magic stream out.

The door opened slowly and Karim stepped inside, closed it behind him. Noise from the hall drifted in before the door closed, Rhea's voice heard above it all, yelling about their stupidity, and they better not ask her to take care of them… Vieno sighed, got up and knocked open one of the window shutters to see Felix and Lothar standing out in the cool night air.

"Hey, you two?" Their heads snapped up. "Rhea's mad, just so you know." They stepped back and closed the shutter, clicking the latch in place, and held out their good arm to Karim, who stepped into their embrace and kissed them. He helped Vieno out of their shirt and pants, then put out the lights, and shrugged out of his clothes as Vieno slipped between the sheets and struggled out of their underwear. Karim entered the bed and pressed himself to Vieno, his hands travelling over their body. They made love, although Vieno held back more than usual, and Karim spared a thoughtful frown to their actions.

Vieno watched Karim from the corner of one eye as he lay next to them, panting lightly. Pravoka was run by gangs, and Karim was the son of a leader of one such gang. Their relationship had always worked because they gave each other what they wanted, without asking for more than the other was willing to give; they understood each other. Vieno trusted Karim; they enjoyed their busy afternoons together in the markets, the conversations and meals they had in the quiet evenings, and sharing his bed at night. And Karim, who hated people knowing who his family was, or any reference to it, trusted that Vieno wouldn't bring it up. Many things had happened where they nearly had: when Karim spent a few weeks living with Vieno during a quiet gang war, Vieno had held back, knowing Karim was just scared to get involved; more so, when someone who had threatened Vieno in the streets was found dead a few days later, Vieno had pondered whether Karim or his family might have had anything to do with it. But they had managed to hold their tongue. So they hated to ask, but they did anyway.

"Those guys at the pub...you wouldn't happen to know who they were?"

Karim gave Vieno an odd look, as if trying to guess whether they were going to cross the line they had mutually drawn between them. "Why would I?"

"I'm sure lots of people here can recognise one gang from another. Who they pay their taxes to and who they don't."

Karim was silent for a few minutes. Long, painful minutes, where Vieno thought they must have insulted him, but refused to take the question back, waited while holding their breath to see if Karim would leave. Finally, he said, very blandly, as though discussing nothing of import, "Bikke's gang. They're pirates, far as anyone knows, 'cause how else could they get their money? They don't own any streets."

"Pirates, hmm?"

He leaned back and looked Vieno in the eyes. "Your friends are screwed. Just so you know."

"They'll be fine," Vieno lied through their teeth. "They've dealt with worse, I think."

Karim didn't look convinced, apparently having been quite unimpressed with them earlier. "I'll... ask my friends if the pirates know where they're staying."

"You don't have to do that."

"Vieno..." Karim touched a hand to the side of Vieno's face, his fingers curling into their silver hair. At a loss for words, he instead kissed Vieno's mouth with enough passion to get his meaning across, and nestled his head into their shoulder.


	13. Lothar's Brilliant Plan

Chapter Thirteen: Lothar's Brilliant Plan

Lothar awoke with a start to hear noises coming from downstairs. He turned to look at Felix – the younger man was deep in sleep, and didn't even stir when a much louder noise could be heard downstairs. Lothar got up and left the room quietly, heading down the hallway to look past the stairs and rail to see movement in the common room that was hard to make out in the shadows, and heard swearing in familiar-sounding voices. He went back to the bedroom and woke up Felix. "I think those pirates are downstairs."

"Did you see them?" Felix asked groggily, combing his hair back from his face with his fingers.

"I heard them."

Felix mumbled something inaudible and got up, slipped his feet into his boots without strapping them, and started searching the room for something to use as a weapon. Lothar left and knocked on Rhea's door until she opened it.

Slipping inside and closing the door, not wanting to be seen in the hallway, he told her about the men downstairs. "We might have to leave. Don't glare at me like that."

"Well it's all your fault," she said tiredly, tying back her knotted hair without bothering to comb it. "And what about him?" she half-yawned, jerking her thumb at where Dimas lay in the other bed. "Are we going to carry him around with us in the streets at night –"

"I'll see if Vieno will maybe watch him for a while."

Finding Vieno's room was a bit of a problem; he ended up knocking on a door in the hall he knew the caravaners were staying at and asked which one it was. Most people didn't know, and were upset at being woken up so late, but someone finally pointed to one room down the hall and slammed their door in his face.

This door was opened by the dark-eyed boy from the pub earlier, wrapped only in a blanket, who looked confused, then let him in and shook Vieno awake. Lothar felt a little embarrassed when he realized what he had walked in on as he saw Vieno lying with their hair strewn about, no shirt, barely covered by the bed sheets, who attempted to give the boy a passionate kiss before seeing with confusion the dark sky through the window, and then realizing with a start that Lothar stood there.

Lothar dropped his eyes to the ground as Vieno covered themself more fully by pulling up the covers. They acted as though everything was perfectly normal. "And how are you, Lothar?"

"Fine, thank you."

"To what do I owe such a pleasant... surprise?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but those guys from the pub came back and we were going to leave, so I wanted to know if you'd watch Dimas for us?"

Vieno frowned. "You don't mean leave long term, do you?"

"I don't think so."

"So you don't really know." Vieno sighed. "Well, if you guys are planning to make a run for it, I don't know if I should. I mean, the caravan's going to be leaving soon, going south. You don't have a ship; you won't be able to follow us and get Dimas back."

"Maybe... we could get a ship. Vieno! The ships at the port, could you tell which one belonged to the pirates?"

"Maybe."

"Are they locked up?"

"No, you idiot, they're unlocked and unprotected, just ready for anybody to take. Go ahead and steal one," they said sarcastically, and a little shortly, finally sounding as tired as they were. "I've heard you have experience with that."

"As a matter of fact, I do," Lothar said, wondering where Vieno had heard that. "How are they locked down?"

"Hell if I know..."

"The anchors," the boy muttered. "The pirates' ship is the only one without an emblem on its sails, or a flag. All the other ones have their country's colours, or something."

Lothar paused a minute, then said, "Oh, thanks." He turned to Vieno. "You don't mind taking Dimas with you for a while?"

"No, of course I don't mind." They didn't sound convincing.

"Really, if you do, then –"

"No, I don't! Just give me your keys, I'll go and get him." Lothar handed the keys over and said goodbye to the half-awake lovers, ran back to his room, looked inside and found it empty. Down the hall was Felix, with two backpacks.

"Is that really all our stuff?" Lothar asked, disbelieving.

"Every last bit. What did Vieno say?"

"Vieno's going to be taking care of Dimas for a while."

"Great, let's go."

They found another inn, although the man who owned it didn't seem too happy that they were waking him up so late. "Fine, yeah, whatever, just take your rooms."

Lothar sat down with a sigh on the bed, then said, "This is too much. I've got to do something about those guys."

"Like what?" Felix tried to catch Lothar's eye, then said, "Don't do something stupid. Please. Let's just leave it alone."

"No. It's not okay. And if we don't do something about it, then we'll never be able to come back here."

"Would you stop being so stupid? You picked a fight with them last time, and you remember what happened?"

"It'll be fine; I've got a great idea. We can steal their ship."

"That's _not_ a great idea."

"Yes it is. I did it before. We could see if maybe the Quadrins could use another ship, and then we wouldn't need to hire a crew – or not a full crew."

"And how are we going to steal their ship?"

"Well, if we just steal their keys..."

* * *

"You want to do what?" Vieno had partially ignored the two men when they came in, continuing to eat dinner and drink, which they had been doing before the others arrived, but had perked up at their last comment.

"It's simple, we just wait until he's kind of alone, beat him up, and take his keys," Lothar said.

"Which one of you came up with this?" Vieno asked. "I just want to know who I'm supposed to be laughing at."

"I did," Lothar admitted. "But there's no way that's their ship; it's too expensive. It isn't as if anyone's going to stop us."

"Yeah, Bikke's pirates are going to stop you," Vieno retorted. "You just assume that it's going to be easy to beat up a group of gangsters?"

"Mostly alone," Lothar repeated.

"When is he going to be mostly alone?"

"I don't know; we'll wait until he is."

"And just pray that they don't beat you up before then?"

"That's pretty much the plan, yeah," Felix mumbled, none too happy about it himself.

"I worry about you kids sometimes," Vieno muttered, refocusing on their meal. "I know I can't stop you," they added, just as Felix opened the door to the restaurant, "but let it be known that I personally think you are idiots."

* * *

The plan should never have worked; it was stupid, like everyone had said, and risky. But on the day the Quadrin caravan was getting ready to re-rent two ships and load up their cargo, they set it into action.

Lothar and Felix (who only came because he couldn't bear to let Lothar go in alone, although he continued to state how impossible the situation would be the entire way) had planned to sit in a corner and wait for the best time to act. But the moment they walked through the pub's front door, five people jumped for them.

In the end, they would be very surprised at just how easy the fight had been. Bikke posed the only problem, and when Felix took one of the fallen pirates' swords and pressed it to the man's neck, he was also surprised at how easily he gave up the keys to the ship, and the few crew members who were on it.

Leaving the pub, neither had more than a few scratches to rub at, and Lothar muttered, "That was so easy, I feel like someone just played a joke on me."

* * *

Vieno leaned into Karim's embrace in the afternoon light of the dimly-lit street, kissed him, and said, "Thank you, that was very sweet of you."

_Karim stepped forward. "Well, you better listen to what I say. Plenty of people disagree with who exactly runs this city, but we all know it isn't you. I, on the other hand, happen to be the son of a very good candidate. You don't want to mess with me. There are a lot of people that would take my side if you did."_

_"You mean like your daddy," Bikke said, looking up at Karim from where he sat across the table, ignoring Vieno completely._

_"I mean like my daddy, yes. You're pissing a lot of people off, too, so I think a lot of us would be willing to work together to get rid of you. Your gang attracts too much attention from the authorities. And we don't like that." By 'us' and 'we' Vieno had to assume Karim meant his father's gang and other gangs. Vieno shifted uncomfortably, understanding exactly what kind of place they were in._

_"So here's the deal," Karim continued. "Those two guys you've been harassing; they're coming over tonight to fight you for your ship. You're not going to give them a problem; you're just going to give it to them, and then you're going to join some other gang. I don't even care if you join one from the west side" – a place where the gangs were generally fighting with the eastern gangs, like Karim's – "just do it. And maybe, my daddy won't kill you."_

"It's the least I could do," Karim said, starting to walk Vieno back to the inn. "Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"So you're finally getting to it," Vieno muttered.

"What?" Karim stopped and tried to read Vieno's face in the darkness.

"You're talking about Ayesha, right?" Vieno had known for a long time that Karim's parents were trying to convince him to marry their friend's daughter, a girl that he actually had feelings for, which made his procrastination all the more difficult. Vieno understood Karim didn't want to start a relationship with Ayesha while still involved with them, but that he had feelings enough for Vieno that he didn't want to break it off before. Perhaps he finally had the nerve.

Karim's dark eyes were calm, but sad. "I didn't know you knew about her."

"I figured that if you wanted to talk to me about her, you'd bring her up yourself. You care about her, don't you?"

"I care about you too," he replied, almost defensively.

"Ah, so you have to make a choice."

"I don't really like the thought of choosing either of you over the other."

"Now don't be silly. There's so much Ayesha can give you that I can't. She's a partner your age, who lives here, who you see all the time, who you care about greatly. You could start a family with her. Not to mention, despite all our intimacy, there will always be an emotional... divide between us." Karim stared at Vieno. "We hide things from each other." Vieno continued walking. "Ayesha is in every way the better choice."

Karim sighed and followed Vieno back to the inn. "It kind of hurts to hear you say it, because we've been together so long... Even though I know it's true." He turned his face away.

"I know." Vieno hurt inside a little too. Not so much at the prospect of losing Karim, as they'd seen that coming long ago, but over all their little losses. The people they knew, their lovers, were always so much younger than them that they felt as though they were wasting these people's time. Vieno put a hand on Karim's shoulder, held him back when he hugged them, and started kissing them in the street, ignoring the people walking by as minor annoyances.


	14. The Ocean's Son

Chapter Fourteen: The Ocean's Son

_The great turquoise depths called to her son. She sent her voice up to him, her song beating with its steady swishing against the wooden sides of the object cradled in her arms. She called him without words, only love and raw emotions, to follow the steady rhythm she set, the tides flowing off the bow of the ship. And inside, lying on his breast, a sharp-sided slab of gem pulsed with light to the rhythm, and then followed a heartbeat, louder and steadier than before, and the breath, so shallow and shaky before, was now a smooth and constant flow. All of him, the flicker of his eyes, his breathing, and the pump of his heart, even his steps, when he later walked, would forever follow the rhythm of the tides._

_The ocean goddess's voice rose up from the deepest depths to reach him, so far away he was. And it reached his mind in some way, though nothing else would have. He felt the trickle of water running down his skin, the feel of his long damp hair stuck to the back of his neck, the feel of being submerged in the coolness, all memories brought to him by the figure he had never had in real life._

_In some other world, Dimas sat up and saw her, a motherly, naked woman of blue and sea foam. He felt the waves splash over him and yelled for his mother. And she came to him, the large wave, that didn't even vaguely look like a person, only to him would it, and he felt covered in the ocean cold...yet felt a warmth he never had._

"Mother." Dimas sat up, feeling totally alive.

* * *

Dimas leaned against a rail that ran down part of the side of the ship, allowing the breeze to play with the long bangs uncovered by his bandanna, smelling the ocean around him. Then thinking better of all this, he untied the bandanna and took off the headscarf too, draping both over his shoulder and allowing his hair to fall loose, to move in the wind. It reached past his waist, and only the ends were brown; the rest slowly became bluer and bluer as it got closer to his head. He had always allowed the somewhat brown-looking hair to show, but had hidden the blue. He tucked one long bang behind a slightly pointed ear – he could never tell if it was elven heritage, or just a unique trait of his. He had never known his father, and was too young to understand such a question when his mother had been around to ask.

Thinking of it set a sharp pain in his chest. He had always felt lonely, but you couldn't think about those kinds of things when you lived on the streets. He squeezed back the tears that threatened, tightening his white-gloved hands around the rail for stability. The sound of footsteps made him self-conscious, and he wrapped his headscarf quickly around his head, and pulled the slightly too-low collar of his shirt up. But his lack of thought over his tears let them slide down his cheeks, and then he was bent over the railing, crying.

Vieno didn't exactly know what to think; the last time they had seen Dimas, he had been catatonic. Definitely, he hadn't looked as though he would be walking any time soon. They would have asked a million questions – _How are you awake? When did you get up? Does Rhea know you're here? What happened to you in the first place?_ – but there really wasn't any way to ask anything with his sobs the way they were. So Vieno curled an arm around the boy instead.

Dimas didn't know who was there, and he didn't really care. He wasn't even sure what was wrong, really, so what would he say if they asked? But no questions were asked, and for that he was grateful. He found himself wrapped up in strong, slim arms, drying his eyes against the lapel to a very red jacket, the open sides of which somewhat protected him from the wind. His face was buried into the stranger's neck, and he felt long hair, pale hair he saw when he opened his eyes a moment, against his cheek. But even without knowing who it was, it wasn't awkward, which Dimas thought seemed a little odd, or perhaps just lucky.

"Are you alright, young one?" The voice that spoke was both comfortingly warm, and cold enough to allow space and the lack of an answer; it was motherly, but fatherly, except it wasn't. Consciously, Dimas wouldn't have worried over any voice he heard, but the indistinct qualities to it made it sound more ethereal, more like anyone could be talking to him, or everyone, and was what he really needed to hear.

He lifted his head a little, felt his nose still against their throat, and saw his breath move their loose collar. He said nothing, only wrapped his arms higher up on their body and held them closer.

* * *

Rhea fussed over him all day, and Dimas eventually held her arm and said, "Really, Rhea, I'm fine. I just want to sleep."

"Well, okay." She seemed uncomfortable with the idea, perhaps thinking that if he went to sleep, he would go another few months without waking up. She brought in something for him to eat, and he did his best with it, then curled up in the blanket on his cot.

It couldn't really be explained. No one thought that Dimas and Vieno had anything in common, or nothing they knew of. They didn't know each other, they didn't share many interests, they came from opposite walks of life. Yet the two seemed glued to each other, perhaps due to the fateful meeting that early morning that the others knew nothing of. But from then on, each knew in their heart, although they didn't at first admit it, that the other was someone they would know closely for the rest of their life.

Dimas sat up late, shivering, and went outside to see Vieno smoking something they put away before he got there.

"It's only been a few days. Shouldn't you take it easy?" Vieno asked, as though it didn't really matter to them how he answered either way.

"I have all this pent-up energy. Besides, it's really cold."

"I'll lend you a blanket. If you promise to go to sleep."

"Okay." Dimas followed Vieno down to where the few available rooms were, past the door that wouldn't close properly, where Felix and Lothar slept, one's cot over the other's, next to two sailors that were working on their ship. It had been unanimously decided that Vieno would have a separate bedroom, even though there wasn't enough space for anyone else to have one; no one wanted to think of what would happen if they saw something Vieno didn't want them to see, as they had made it obvious to everyone a few days ago that they didn't just allow people to stay confused about their gender, but kept it an actual _secret_. The two of them walked to the end of the hallway and Vieno opened the last door to a room with a low roof, slanted at the end, stacked high on either side with crates and sacks, tied down with a net for Vieno's safety. The sailors had seemed very understanding and protective of Vieno, enough that Dimas would have commented on it if he didn't think it would be rude.

Vieno knelt next to their multi-coloured trunk, thrown open at the foot of their bed, as it usually was. Dimas sat on their cot, stiffly at first, but then, as he glanced around the room, more comfortably. Vieno finally pulled a blanket out, walked over, and knelt to wrap it around Dimas' shoulders. Their faces were very close, and Dimas was lost in Vieno's eyes, a dark colour, darker than usual. He held his breath as one of Vieno's hands touched his knee. But for once, Vieno had a different train of thought.

"Why don't you stay here tonight? Just to sleep," they amended awkwardly.

Dimas smiled. He should say no. "Yeah, okay."

They stretched themselves out on the cot, spread the blankets over both of them, and Dimas turned away from Vieno, thinking it would be too much to be face-to-face with them in the dark. After a few minutes, one of Vieno's arms crept shyly around him, then hugged him a little closer, until he was tucked under their chin. And Dimas slipped into sleep, wrapped up in Vieno's warmth.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Felix asked.

"South," Rhea replied. "That's really all we know. But hopefully we'll end up in the Elven Territories; that's where the Quadrins say they're going."

Felix nodded. He had learned much of ships in the week they had been at sea, but the navigations still eluded him somewhat. There was a lot of cloud cover here, and without stars to aid them, the sailors were using compasses and other odd devices, and a lot of math. One had offered to explain it to him, but Felix had shook his head and backed out of the room at the mention of numbers and maps.

Vieno was downstairs wrestling with the broom.

"Back in the closet."

"Peews d'na tuo yats tsum."

Not having the time to decipher this, Vieno ignored it, tried to grab it, then heard a commotion upstairs. They turned to the door to hear. "Man overboard!"

"Oh man..." The broom had taken its opportunity while Vieno was distracted and swept away. Vieno ran up the stairs to the deck. "Who fell?"

"Felix," Rhea muttered from behind them. "A sahagin pulled him down. And he can't get out because of that thing." Rhea pointed at a beige shape in the water, but Vieno couldn't see it from this distance.

The sailors flung a rope over the side, and one offered to jump in to get Felix. Vieno ran to the edge. Felix seemed to be jerking oddly, as though he were paralyzed. A group of mermen as Vieno knew them, sahagins as the Cornelians called them, were in the water around him, pulling at him. He would have been lost right away if the sahagins hadn't been in a dispute amongst one another over him. They actually held him up – his under armour was soaking up the water, and appeared to be weighing him down.

"What is it Vieno?" Vieno turned to see Dimas beside them.

"Felix is in the water."

"I could get 'im."

"No, the sailors have got it under control."

The sailors did not have it under control. They ran back and forth, calling to each other, arguing. Only one man still held the rope; he didn't look strong enough to pull in the two people in the water. Dimas hoped he had some actual affinity with water like he thought he did, sent a prayer, and jumped.

He felt very buoyant, and despite the roiling waves, he had no trouble popping back up to the surface. He pulled up the sailor by the arm and pushed him back to the ship. He went for Felix just as a reddish sahagin grabbed the soldier and pulled it away from the others.

Despite being in the water, Dimas felt as though he were still standing tall. He pointed at the thing and said... something. It seemed as though it were commanding, powerful... and yet, it came from him with no thought of his own. It tossed Felix back.

Felix was heavy, and sank in Dimas' arms. He untied the heavy under armour, letting it sink, and swam back to the ship, tied Felix to the rope, and waited for his turn. When he finally knelt on the grainy deck of the ship, in a pool of seawater, he glanced back to see the sea creatures had sunk back into the water. The sailors worked at Felix until he coughed up salt water and responded to the hands helping him sit up, then he turned to throw up more water. Rhea talked to him in worried low tones, and Lothar appeared to be there too.

Vieno rushed to Dimas, took off their coat and put it on him.

"No, Vieno, it'll get salt stains 'n stuff."

"It'll wash out eventually," they said, wrapping it closer around Dimas, then hugging him close. "You'll be frozen. We should go downstairs. You'll need dry clothes."

Dimas clung to Vieno's shoulders. It took him a moment to realize everyone was staring at them and their intimate display. He coughed and looked away. Vieno didn't seem to notice, or more likely pretended not to, and stood, then helped Dimas to his feet. "You guys worry about Felix and him," nodding to the sailor that had gotten wet. "I'll take care of Dimas."

Dimas nodded, and felt water drip from his soaked headscarf down his forehead and into his eyes. His hands felt very weird in the wet silk gloves. He followed Vieno downstairs, followed by a startling swishing noise. He turned to see a broom sweeping itself down the stairs.

"Uh, Vieno!"

"It's okay. I'll explain in a minute."

Unnoticed by anyone else was the dark creature clinging to the mast of the ship. A claw-hand tipped with long nails, reached out, and thunderbolts shot out, twisting and flying back and forth through the air in their search for least resistance, towards the water as it sent them. It had a little trouble controlling the lightning, but eventually, it hit the water as it was supposed to, and the mermen, still floating just under the water, soon floated inanimately to the surface, bobbing up and down in the waves. Loki then crawled back out of sight. Its work here was finished.

* * *

"What did you think you were doing?" Vieno asked, pushing Dimas down onto their bed, some of his clothes draped over one of their arms. Dimas hadn't questioned why they had gone to Vieno's room.

"I have an affinity with water; I thought the water goddess would protect me." He touched a hand to the blue crystal on his necklace.

Vieno seemed unable to respond to that. They paused. "You need to change."

"Not with you lookin' on!" Dimas cried, shrinking away. He was very self-conscious about his body, and the thought of Vieno of all people seeing it... he pushed that thought away.

"Oh, of course." Vieno seemed a little offended as they left, though in truth, it was more from the tone of Dimas' voice, or the thought that they would have given him a hard time about something like that, than about not being able to see him. They did want to see him though–

Vieno pushed that thought away, and shook it to the back of their head. It wasn't like that between Dimas and them. This was something different. And something about the thought of sleeping with Dimas seemed almost sacrilegious.

They peeked in a little after to see Dimas changed and with a dry towel wrapped around his head, his body curled into Vieno's blankets. Vieno closed the door behind them, then wordlessly, hoping Dimas wouldn't leave now, knowing it would break their heart if he did (and that was just so not like them), removed their boots, belt, hat and long coat. They slipped under the sheets and faced Dimas' back again, wrapping their arm around him less hesitantly this time. Their hand found his under the covers; it flinched away at first, then relaxed in their grip, and Vieno marvelled at the weird feel of it. But they were too tired to remember such things, and drifted to sleep to the sound of the broom swishing.


	15. Dark Prophecies

Chapter Fifteen: Dark Prophecies

The ships found the coastline in the dead of night. They drifted silently to a long, flat wall of stone that spanned across part of the jagged cliffs continuing far in both directions, and the sailors, being superstitious, made signs against evil and muttered short prayers at the strange and awesome sight of this great feat of work, out here in the wilderness, far from where any were known to live, and abandoned as though it had lost its usefulness. They slept after that and wondered how they were going to get over it.

The wall had lost some of its glamour in the sunlight, but it still looked intimidating when Dimas stared at it that morning. Lothar appeared beside him. "It's weird," he started. "It has all these things to allow people to lock up their ships." He pointed to varying spots along the wall at things that just looked like odd contraptions to Dimas, but must have had some use if Lothar said they did, "but the wall itself looks like it's meant to keep people out."

"We're not scaling that," Felix said. "We'll just have to find another way."

"I wouldn't worry about it overmuch," Vieno muttered, leaning forward on the rail. "I've been to the Elven Territories three times, and every time we come here, it's a different tribe that comes to get us, and we find a different way in, but the elves won't let us sit here and starve."

"That's not the kind of hospitality I was ever told to expect from an elf," Felix said, then paused. "Not that I've ever met one."

"Maybe the person who told you that had never met one either." The conversation ended awkwardly there, and they continued to wait, and to eat, and pack some of their things, and hope Vieno was right.

When a small boat did arrive, and someone came climbing up the side of the ship to talk to the captain, Dimas was excited, and a little disappointed that he never got to see them. But soon their ships were on the move again, and Dimas was grateful that they wouldn't have to sit any longer and listen to Lothar puking unexpectedly.

* * *

Rhea had never known that trees could get so tall.

Back home in Melmond, there weren't a lot of trees; there was a lot of plant-life, usually, as was to be expected from any marsh, but it was usually low-lying grasses and shrubs. It got higher when you travelled far enough into it, but the trees she had used to consider giants looked like stunted bushes compared to the forest looming before her.

She didn't want to admit that she was a little scared to walk into a place with leaves so tightly entwined that a blue-black haze seemed to cover everything thickly, obscuring one's vision. She stuck next to Lothar, and kept her eyes on her feet, and sometimes her brother's. When she did look up, she saw everyone else shuffling slowly around her, just before stumbling over part of the uneven ground, covered in high tree roots and damp mosses. Someone caught her arm, and she looked up to see a new face with light brown skin and dark brown hair and eyes. "Don't trip now," they said, patted her arm affectionately and continued on. She barely noticed their pointed ears before they were too far ahead.

"The elves don't look like I thought they would," she admitted to Vieno, who had been trailing behind them for some time. "They look very much like... humans."

"Well, what did you think they would look like?"

"I don't know. Just... more different, I guess."

"Yeah, I was a little disappointed too. When I first met an elf, I was expecting someone who would look all otherworldly and have weird eyes and super awesome magic or something like that. But instead they just looked like a Pravokan, and reminded me of Akash."

"Who's Akash?"

"I'll introduce you to him later," Vieno muttered.

The elves stuck mostly to themselves when they set up camp, although they were friendly enough, offering food and blankets if any were needed. The Light Warriors huddled together around a single, small campfire, under a heavy silence. All around them was noise, laughter and talking, but they were almost silent.

"What are we going to do when we see the elves?"

"We'll hope they have a way to get us safely back to Melmond," Lothar said, peeking over the edge of the blanket he and Rhea had wrapped tightly around themselves. "And that they'll be willing to help us at all."

"Why don't we ask some of them? They would know, wouldn't they?" Dimas pointed over to the elves' tent, although the elves themselves seemed to have disappeared entirely at the moment.

"I'd rather not," Felix said. "Besides, they probably wouldn't know about the west if they live in the east of their territories."

"I guess so," Dimas muttered, not sure he entirely understood why everyone was so careful around the elves. They seemed nice enough.

* * *

The elven capitol was unlike anything they had seen before, though that was to be expected, consisting of low walls that twined through it, making it appear to be a maze, short, single-story buildings scattered about in a random-seeming pattern on either side of the few roads to be found, and a few buildings so tall that they seemed almost insulting-looking compared to the rest, pointing towards the sky. They were pretty-looking, in their shiny white marble, but they also looked a bit like needles, and Dimas was reminded too much of the Temple of Fiends to really appreciate their beauty.

Everything was covered in a heavy layer of snow, Rhea noticed, pulling the edges of her white cape over each other in front of her to block the wind. It was the dead of winter by now. Thinking of such things, she realized it had been almost half a year since they had left Cornelia. Going further back, that would mean they had been away from Melmond for almost two years. She wasn't sure whether it should bother her that she had stopped thinking about home, although at the moment, she was wondering how everything was going without them, their house, their store…

She glanced over at Lothar. Did he wonder and worry about it too? Or had he stopped caring after mom…?

The small party of elves that had brought them to the capitol, the name of which they couldn't pronounce, led them to what appeared to be a palace, towering over everything else, and then turned to a short wing that stuck out from the side, which appeared to be simply a long hallway lined with bedrooms. They left them there, and everyone settled themselves and fell asleep.

* * *

Dimas walked down the main road in the early morning, glancing back and forth at the buildings around him. The elves nearby didn't seem too surprised to see him, nor did they avoid him, like they had avoided the group when they had first entered the city. One even walked up to him and asked him a question, although it was in a different language, and when he replied that he didn't understand, they only frowned in confusion and walked away.

One interesting thing Dimas noticed about the elves was that they reminded him of Vieno in that he could rarely tell for sure if they were male or female. The city around him was totally foreign, but he felt comfortable here. And he was shocked to find quite a few elves with blue hair. Deciding to take a chance, he took everything off his head and finger-combed out his long hair, showing the darker blue, and eliciting an interesting response from those around him, quite a few smiles and acknowledging nods.

Dimas stopped in the large round courtyard and leaned against the fountain. He felt there was something important about this place, but he'd never been here before. He glanced around at the people who stopped and looked him over, surprised so many were out so early, then felt self-conscious and looked away.

Two elves appeared in the wing where the Quadrins and their companions and Light Warriors were staying sometime in the night, and were there in the morning, sitting in the hallway on two chairs. They simply told them they were to be their guides. One man from the Quadrin caravan, whom Vieno pointed out to be Akash, took one of the guides to the side and began speaking to them, asking where they could set up stores this year and which ones would be willing to sell.

The other, tall with warm brown eyes and violent red hair that made Felix look like a brunette, looked expectantly at Felix and Rhea. Rhea said, "We would wait until Lothar wakes up." The elf simply nodded once and sat back down.

"Maybe we should wake him. He'll just sleep in otherwise." Felix eyed the door to Lothar's room.

"Where's Dimas?" Vieno asked.

"I don't know, I looked in his room and he wasn't there," Felix answered. "Why?"

"No reason." Vieno left with the caravaners.

When Lothar woke up, they rushed him to get dressed, and then asked the elf to lead them to the castle to speak to whoever would be able to help them get west. Lothar stumbled blearily behind, rubbing his eyes, and Rhea held his hand to lead him. Their companion said, "There are some in the palace who deal with the dwarven race to the northwest. You'll need permission from the Duergarnians to go there."

"Hey!" Dimas ran up and hugged Rhea from behind. "Where are we going?"

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Rhea asked.

"I'm just glad for a change of scenery."

The elf stared long and hard at Dimas, pouted a little in what seemed like confusion, then continued up the hill towards the palace.

The opened palace gates led to a large, cavern-like room with a ceiling like a cathedral's, tapestries lining the walls between large marble pillars of swirling white and blue, and a mosaic on the floor. The room was empty enough that they could see the picture it made out, one of a crouching figure with wild black hair and four arms pointing to the corners of the room, the top two holding an axe and a slim sword, and the bottom two shooting beams of blue-white and red-black. In each corner, there was a human-like figure, surrounded by elements of streams of wind, and swirling flames, and such. In front of the crouching figure, a sword stood upright on its own; it had a wide, blue-grey blade, and a hilt of gold and jewels, with a pommel of multi-coloured crystal. And lying down next to it was a very thin, black sword, the twirling wire-like cross guards giving the impression of a spider in the blurry and un-detailed imagery of the tiny stones of the mosaic.

Rhea stepped over the image carefully, staring down at the middle figure's face interestedly, seeing where years of passing feet had worn away the face to smoothness, and the colour faded. "How old is this?"

"Almost two hundred years old," their guide said. "It is based on a vision had by the prophets here just after the first appearances of the Four Fiends, and the near fall of the northern nation of the Lefein."

"The _near_ fall?" Felix asked. "Don't you mean the fall, the destruction, of the Lefeinish? They were massacred, and their civilization completely collapsed."

The elf paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Of course, that's right. How silly of me," and continued to an open hallway at the other end of the room.

Felix sat at a desk across from an old elf who appeared to be a lord or clan chief, next to the guide, who continued to translate – it seemed most elves did not speak their language, and Rhea was glad they had been provided a companion to help them. They were in a library, and she found herself wandering, as she always did in libraries. The further and further down the shelves she went, the older the books got. Ladders were around, and the bookcases towered to at least three or four times her height. Some of the books looked like they could have weighed as much as her with their leather covers and brass bindings and thick pages a foot wide and longer. But right at the back, the books got tiny, with cheaper materials and very small writing she noticed when she looked inside. The writing was in a different alphabet, but there were many pictures in the one she'd grabbed, faded images inked in blue and black, of monsters. One interesting thing she noticed was that the numbers were written in the same digits she used.

She turned the pages to find an image that looked a bit like the one on the mosaic floor of the main room of the palace. It looked much more foreboding in black and white. A paragraph of writing, different both from her own, and the other writing in the book, was scrawled sketchily on the page next to it, pointing to it with an arrow. And on the next page, she saw the same image, but in this one, the figures appeared to be dead, filled in black with blank eyes and blood pouring from wounds. And next to it, a very short line of writing, just a phrase.

_Death and failure_.

It popped into her head, even though she had no idea what it really said. She snapped the book closed, annoyed.

A hand tapped her shoulder and she jumped, dropping the book to the ground, and turned to see their guide, and a bit further behind them, the others. She reached down and picked up the book, worried she might have damaged it, if it was as old as it looked. The leather appeared un-cracked, but she motioned to put it back. "I'm sor–"

Her guide blinked confusedly and reached over to grab the book from her hand on its way to the shelf, then pressed it back into her other hand. "I'm sure the scholars won't miss this," they whispered. "They can't even read it, anyways."

She understood, and slid it underneath her white cloak, into one of the large folds in her skirt that she had made for a pocket. As they walked back, she pulled her hood up over her head, not wanting the scholar to see her face in case she looked guilty.

Outside, she asked Felix what had happened.

"We have to wait until we get permission from Duergar to go west. Apparently, they might be building a canal soon. Until then, we'll be staying here. What were you doing when we heard all this?"

"Uh, nothing."

* * *

Loki crawled its way up the hill that night to the Shades Temple, opening the door with ease to see a temple ten times more frightening than any in the Human Territories. Spikes and spires and gargoyle statues weren't the half of it. Long strings of sparkling black beads hung in masses from the ceiling. In the center of the room, there was a graduation of circular steps downwards leading to a pit-like bottom and a garden of plants that didn't grow in the sunlight. Long blades of black grass with a reddish liquid that seeped from them like blood, and a dark blue flower with a stamen that appeared sharp-looking as it hung long from the confines of the still tightly-wrapped petals.

A pedestal at the back of the room stood tall and proud before the people in tight, dark robes that hung around it, elves with the tips cut off their ears and dirty rags tied over their eyes, holding out with mutilated hands their religious charms on metal chains that had rusted after many years. When they used dark powers, elves could make themselves live for centuries, and it was apparent that these ones had – some of them appeared to have been left here so long their clothes had rotted away. And these weren't simply dark-skinned elves, they were Dark Ones, with blue-black skin as dark as the night sky, too blue and dark to belong to a regular elf.

Loki screeched. The Dark Ones started singing and dancing in its celebration.

* * *

Rhea sat up on her bed, her hair combed out and hanging long down her back, wearing a loose, comfortable shift and slippers. She was glad to let down her hair and get out of her corset – she never wore them particularly tight, but this one was getting too small. She sighed, trying not to think about something as silly as her weight right now. The kids had used to pick on her for her weight…

She looked down at herself and frowned fiercely, then held up the book she had gotten from the library. She didn't want to open it to that page, but she did want to at the same time. She held it tightly closed in her lap and looked out the window, where she could see sheets of sleet slashing at the windows in a winter storm. She wondered if there would be a blizzard tonight.

Letting her mind wander, she realized that she was getting up and slipping her feet into her boots without putting on stockings, that she was grabbing her outdoor cloak, and leaving her room, but she didn't know why. She realized someone was following her, and that it was very cold outside, but she seemed unable to control herself. She was standing outside in the blizzard, her body going numb, and she strongly hoped it was a dream.

All around her everything was white. Was that snow, or could she just no longer see? Then a great black thing loomed before her, blurry around the edges, and she was falling towards it.

She gasped at the sudden warmth, and the feel of things grabbing at her, pulling her down… into the ground? She saw hands reaching from the earth for her. But no, that couldn't be right. The earth wouldn't attack her, would it? It wasn't right. But they weren't hands, she saw now, they were plants, a mass of black grass that… was it bleeding on her? It appeared to be. Or maybe they were knives. Maybe it was her own blood.

Rhea screamed and thrashed out at them, saw the red travel in runnels down her arms. She arched her back when she felt what was like a void opening beneath her. She couldn't go down there. She had to stay up here. She even grabbed at those knives to hold herself up. And above her, in a circle, that seemed to be getting further and further away, were a group of mutilated people reaching to her with hands that were no longer hands. No, they weren't reaching for her, they were reaching up at the sky. They were elves, she saw in her panic. And they had no eyes. There was a song above her that was far too pretty for the circumstances, in elven voices, the only things about them that seemed untainted.

Then a creature covered in brown and black fur leaped over her, its long, spidery limbs sprawling outwards around her, as it covered her. Its yellow, animal eyes flashed as it raised its head, complete with drawn back lips and teeth parted to bite, from her face. It looked up, towards the dark creatures, and snarled so viciously that the dark people shrank away, then wailed back at it. It got up on two legs, and made a terrifying noise of what could have been anger or fear, or pain, or anything, all she knew was that it was terrible.

Then there was a bang, and everything was bathed in moonlight, and suddenly she saw the place for what it really was. She ripped her right arm from the blades of grass wrapped around it so she could turn to the noise, stared hopefully at the figure silhouetted in black against the outdoor light as it strode forward.

"_WHAT ARE YOU…__**DOING**__!_" The person in the doorway was the guide who had been assigned to them. They drew a sword from a scabbard they carried in their left hand – it seemed elves didn't always belt their weapons to them – and pointed it at the nearest dark people. "Back!" they ordered, jabbing it dangerously close to the things' faces, and they held up their hands and scuttled backward. In anger, they stabbed one of the vile things, and slashed up a few others.

The elf strode down the circular steps, over the thorny plants that tore so viciously at Rhea's clothes as she thrashed to get away from them, and used their sword to cut away the troublesome twigs. Holding Rhea up, they backed away from the dark creatures that currently huddled around the pedestal, and yelled, "Next time I will kill you!" pointing to a particular one, "and lock the rest of you up in boxes if I have to. If you're going to live in our city, you have to live by our rules!"

The guide sheathed their sword quickly and motioned to Loki. "If you ever want to be let out of here, then leave now." Loki followed them outside, where Rhea leaned tiredly against the wall while the elf shut the heavy doors and locked them.

"If you need to learn magic," they told Loki, "you can learn it somewhere better than that. Besides, those are forbidden spells. They would have destroyed you. Not that you wouldn't have tried them, even knowing that." Loki tilted its head. "I've met enough creatures of your kind to know how power-hungry you all are." Loki growled. "Don't deny it. You're all obsessed with getting powerful, forbidden spells, even if you know they'll kill you. But that's not your fault. They _did_ make you that way."

Rhea remembered thinking this was a very interesting conversation going on between Loki and the elf, but she just couldn't focus on it. Then she should probably try to get some sleep. But when she stood up from the wall, she collapsed face-first into the snow.

"Is there too much dark energy here for you?" the guide asked. A hand helped lift her up and brushed some snow off her face.

And Rhea couldn't remember anything else after that.


	16. The Melmondan Monk

Chapter Sixteen: The Melmondan Monk

Lothar spent about a week with Rhea, keeping her comfortable, getting her food. She declined having a maid wait on her, and the others were surprised to see how close the siblings really were. He always seemed able to anticipate when she needed him, and what she wanted, and could tell at a glance if she was feeling better or nauseous. Also, despite all appearances, Lothar seemed to be perfect for the job.

As soon as Rhea was feeling a little better, she kept mostly to the large library in the palace. Felix was teaching Dimas the sword and some basic combat on the side in a large training field a little to the south. Vieno was kept very busy with the caravan, and Loki was nowhere to be seen. The elven guards were monopolized by someone or another every day.

Lothar found himself strolling down the large hall in the palace, hands shoved in his pockets. For the first time in his life, he really had nothing to do. He couldn't very well train all day, and the others were all busy. He could have gone to train with Felix and Dimas, but he didn't really consider imposing himself on them for a whole day as a good time, and he wasn't in the mood after his morning exercises. He wouldn't feel comfortable in the library where Rhea was – not that he would think of bothering her. He had considered going to see Vieno, or Saundra and Donatien, but he had seen for himself how busy the caravaners were, and didn't want to be a pain.

_Then again, maybe they could use help with unloading, and setting up stalls._ After half the day spent wandering around, looking at the shining new buildings and the darker old buildings that loomed behind, and examining some of the more oddly-dressed inhabitants, Lothar changed his mind and turned around.

He saw Donatien hefting an overly large crate that looked too heavy for him, so he grabbed the other side, lifting it at his shoulders because he was so much shorter. "Thank you," the darker man gasped. "It is going over near the stall – green roof," he managed.

Lothar glanced over his shoulder to find it and backed up with Donatien until he was told to drop it. "Mind your fingers," Donatien said, letting his end hit the ground, then he looked up. "Lothar! I did not know that was you. Are you okay?"

"I can lift things," Lothar said a little indignantly.

"The crate is bigger than you!" Donatien protested.

"Well, I managed," Lothar said, grinning now. "Who do you think does all the lifting at home? Not Rhea."

"She is still bigger than you," Donatien added, drinking from a glass of water someone had offered him. Then seeing the look on Lothar's face, said, "I am only joking. That is probably the heels, anyway."

Donatien looked tired, like he'd been working all day, which he probably had, and leaned back against the crate, slouching a little and drinking his water. Lothar settled next to him, realizing as he did so that he didn't quite reach to his shoulders. He looked up as the other man tiredly let his head fall back against the crate, examining the curve of his jaw and throat. In the sunlight, his skin was a warm brown, and just below the corner of his jaw, hard to miss, there was a pale pink scar that travelled down and disappeared behind his collar.

"A few more boxes to move today, so they can use their carriage," Donatien said, catching Lothar's attention. He realized that Donatien had stood up and quickly followed suit, embarrassed at realizing he'd been staring at him again.

* * *

Lothar leaned against the wall in the hallway of the wing where they all slept as first Donatien and then Saundra appeared, and the three of them went out together.

They were training, and headed to the same training field that Dimas and Felix had found. Lothar stared at the two guards as the three of them stretched, seeing what they did differently than him. Donatien was stretching his arm over his head; the hem of his shirt lifted a little, and Saundra took the opportunity to poke him. "Ow!" He pushed her. Lothar just looked silently up at them, thrown off a little by their silly play, only because his instructors had been so strict that such a thing had never happened during any of his warm-ups. He had also never had many opportunities to have a training partner, considering Rhea wasn't the least interested.

"Have you ever wrestled?" Donatien asked Lothar. He examined Lothar from head to toe, and added, "You probably have. Were you a guard or something?"

"I was a monk," Lothar said, flushing a little at the scrutiny his form received from the two guards, knowing after all the time abed at sea he wasn't in top form. "And yes, I do wrestle, quite a lot, actually." As he said this, he swung one foot out for Donatien's head, but the darker man grabbed his ankle and tossed him over. Lothar rolled as he hit the ground and managed to stand back up. "Nice," he breathed, impressed.

He was more impressed by the time the three of them were done. Both Saundra and Donatien had been training since they were young, and he couldn't beat either of them without effort, though in the end, he managed to snag a sort of victory.

Donatien lifted his hands. "I'm tired. I give up." Saundra had said the same when she was wrestling him. Now she was on the other side of the field, doing some solitary exercises among the elves.

Lothar offered Donatien a hand up, which was accepted. "Good, because I was just about to say the same thing." Donatien smiled. He was much less shy around Lothar now that he had gotten to know him, even when Saundra wasn't there to do the talking for him. Lothar had figured out a while ago that Saundra wasn't really as talkative as she seemed, she just always had to say things for Donatien too, or else they wouldn't get said. He had commented that maybe she should just leave it be and see if Donatien would speak up more, but she had said that she tried that and nothing had changed.

When no one was around, however, Donatien was much more fun. "We should get something to eat," he suggested. Lothar agreed, and they went to collect Saundra before they left. They ate at the stalls in the open market, sitting on stone benches in the middle of the square and staring around at the city.

The next few days were mostly the same, and they saw Dimas and Felix in the field some days, as Felix taught Dimas how to use a sword. The groups slowly got very competitive, and eventually, Lothar and Felix started teasing each other.

"I could do that," Lothar said, unimpressed, as he watched Felix enact out a certain swing for Dimas rather slowly so he could see it better, something that was pretty hard to do without the momentum of the swing moving it.

"Are you kidding?" Felix laughed. "You couldn't even lift this," he added, hefting his sword.

"You can't even lift yourself. I've seen your push ups. They're lame."

"Boys," Saundra laughed, not surprised. She sat herself up on the fence. "Push up contest!" she suggested.

"Yeah that's a good idea," Dimas said, backing up to lean on the fence and take a breath, which was probably all he really wanted. Donatien crossed his arms and eyed the two carefully, expectantly.

"Well, Felix? Think you can beat me?" He highly doubted it.

"You're on, idiot." Felix dropped his wooden training sword to the ground, and stripped off his jacket.

It was pretty obvious that Lothar was doing a better job. The other three looked almost bored of the inevitable victory when Lothar looked up at them. He noticed that Donatien was staring at him, but he wasn't looking directly at his face. Lothar wasn't sure what he was looking at, but it made him a little uncomfortable, and he faltered for a moment.

"Do you give up?" Felix asked, looking up at him and not really sounding happy or mocking so much as out of breath.

Lothar stared back at Donatien, who was now examining the ground by his feet almost absent-mindedly. Maybe it had been in his head. "Uh, yeah."

"Really?"

"Sure. You win, Felix." Lothar got up and ignored the sore stiffness he now felt in his arms. The ex knight let himself collapse to the ground as Dimas shuffled up to him.

"That was lame," Saundra complained when Lothar was within earshot. "You both looked lame. I can do better than that."

"Thanks Saundra," Lothar muttered, though it didn't bother him at the moment.

"It was not that bad," Donatien disagreed. "You did not look _that_ bad."

"Great." He watched Felix and Dimas from the corner of his eye. "Do you guys want to go get something to eat now, or...?" It was a little earlier than usual, but he was hungry.

"Actually, I've got somewhere I need to be soon," Saundra admitted. "I'll come with you guys tomorrow." She hopped off the fence on the other side and gave a sort of shrug before skipping off.

"Well?" Donatien raised an eyebrow questioningly at Lothar. "You want to go? Just the two of us."

Lothar thought about it, blinking a little absently. Just the two of them? Something about that seemed nice, and he wanted to say yes, but something about it made him a little uncomfortable too. Feeling like a coward, he backed out by saying that he had to go see Rhea, so maybe next time, which felt stupid because he had been the one to suggest they go in the first place. Donatien looked confused but nodded to him, walking slowly down the street to the market and seeming a little disappointed.

Lothar walked back to the palace wing where they were staying, kicking some stones with him in boredom. Despite the fact that Donatien and Saundra seemed so nice, and he wanted to be their friend, he continually turned down the more obvious offers of friendship they made to him. _Do you want to go sightseeing together?_ No. _Do you want to eat dinner at–?_ No. _Do you want to come over to our place?_ No.

It had taken a lot of pushing to get him to train with them. And yet, no matter how he pushed them away, they kept offering. They never gave up. And Lothar had to admit that he appreciated it. He knocked on the door to Rhea's room. "Rhea? Are you in there?"

"Yeah." She sounded stuffy, as she still had a mild cold. No matter how much Lothar questioned Rhea, she wouldn't tell him why she was outside so late in such weather that day. "I don't really remember. I was probably a little drunk." Even though Lothar knew she almost never drank.

"How are you feeling?" He sat next to her on her bed and felt her forehead to find it warm.

"Better. Where have you been?"

"Just out with Saundra and Donatien."

"How can you go out in that shirt in winter and not get cold?" She ran her fingers along the thin cloth of the shirt he wore, which didn't have any sleeves.

"I wear a jacket."

"Hmm. We can't have you getting sick too."

"No, I'll be fine."

* * *

Lothar spent the next few days with the caravaners. Despite so much of Donatien's teasing, he felt comfortable around them. It was late one night, much later than he would normally wait to go home, that he finally worked up the courage to ask something he'd been wondering about for a while.

The caravaners had turned their carriages on their sides, facing inwards in a few loose circles. Campfires were burning within these circles, some of the people sitting around them still eating dinner. Lothar and Donatien sat side by side, leaning against the sliding top to Donatien and Saundra's carriage. Saundra was gone at the moment, spending time with some family of hers.

"Where are you from?" Lothar asked.

"What?" Donatien looked confused.

Realizing his question might seem out of the blue, Lothar continued, "I mean, where were you born? Where are your people from? It's just, you don't look like anyone I've ever seen..." He wondered vaguely if his question might seem rude. Maybe Donatien didn't like being reminded that he stuck out, and people stared at him wherever he went.

Donatien was silent for a moment, frowning slightly. "Sorry," Lothar said. "It's none of my business."

"No, no. Just... I am not sure what to say. There is no name for that place. And I do not know any word to mean all the people that look like me. It is very far away, across an ocean. The land looks different."

"What does it look like?"

"It is big. Very big. Imagine flat land as far as the eye can see. There are a few cliffs and such, but it is mostly flat. There are not many trees, and they grow together. The few trees on their own are all twisty, and they branch out more than up. There is a lot of grass, like the Cornelian plains, but it is mostly gold. And some of the animals are very big. One animal was..." he seemed to pause to search for an effective word, "giant – its ear would be as big as that tarp," he pointed to a tarp draped over the opening to one carriage. "And it has teeth like horns that come out like this," he gestured the forward position, "and they fight with them, I think." In a much lighter tone he added, "But they eat plants, like... grass." Lothar laughed with him at the absurdity of such a fact.

"We lived in a little group and relied on each other... so much. It was busy way of life. Sometimes you had to go a long way to get the water." The faster he spoke, the more animated, the less careful he was with his grammar, and Lothar was reminded that Donatien wasn't actually considered very proficient in this language. But something about it made the story seem more exotic and strange. "I know my mother would go long distances sometimes. Sometimes I went with her... and then we would... work with the crops, I think. The men go hunting in large groups, and if they brought home very large kill, it could last a long time – weeks I would think.

"It was always so hot there. When the breeze hit your face at night, it was still warm." Donatien seemed as though he were imagining it. "The sun was so strong. Maybe... it was because there were so few clouds."

Lothar had been leaning forward, listening intently. Donatien's talk of a distant land with large, dangerous creatures and seas of golden grass and a warmer sun sounded like a fairy tale. Lothar was so engrossed in the story that he didn't notice at first when it had stopped. He was trying to imagine such a place.

"I probably describe it... not that well." Now that he was calmer, and spoke more slowly, it was much clearer. "My words in English are not that good. And I do not remember much of it."

Lothar wasn't sure what to say to the last part, so he compromised. "I think you speak fine."

Donatien smiled at that and hugged him around the shoulders before getting up. "Go home. You look tired."

* * *

Rhea asked Lothar to find out where the nearest Bright Temple was when she felt better enough to go out. Their guide said there was no Bright Temple in the city, a fact that shocked Lothar, and would surely shock his sister, but pointed out where to go for learning such magic. The next day, Rhea and Lothar set out.

The two of them strode quickly down the large street of the elven city, the nearby citizens giving them strange looks as they went by. Even the buildings that were not made of wood or some other natural material, including one spectacular work that appeared to be made entirely out of glass somehow, curved around the nearby environment. Large trees dominated the places where lawns and gardens would normally sprawl; here, such things were small and confined to ledges on windows and little pots. The people wore loose clothes made of wool and leather, natural colours mostly, with hair of dark red, pale green or blue, and many shades of brown, and often large silver eyes. Lothar and Rhea, with their golden hair, and starkly-coloured clothing – Lothar's pure black today with the purple scarf, and Rhea's a pink and gold dress with a large skirt – and their capes of dazzling pure white, small red geometric designs, mostly triangular, sewn on with beads around the edges, more than stood out, and were conspicuously eyed as though they were distasteful as they passed.

Lothar left Rhea at the temple and went back to their quarters quickly, wanting to be out of the eye of these inner city dwellers. The elves from the more rural side of the city eyed him curiously, much like some people had eyed Donatien when he passed, but these ones glared. As soon as he arrived back, he rushed through the quarters to where the caravaners were staying. Luck was on his side, as Saundra and Donatien were just about to leave, on another walk, or to the training field, he assumed. He almost careened into them, and was greeted with laughter and warm smiles and a hug from Saundra that nearly made him lift her. Finally the three left together, Lothar feeling as though he had never been so warmly greeted anywhere.

Saundra eventually left to spend the rest of the evening with her family, and Lothar found himself alone with Donatien. It was strange how quickly the mood changed. They were both silent, and in the quiet of the elven city at this late hour, Lothar almost felt unable to make a sound.

Donatien stopped walking rather suddenly and turned to him. "Lothar." It may have been the first time Donatien had said his name – Lothar couldn't quite remember – and it sounded strange in that unfamiliar accent.

Lothar stopped and turned. "Yes?" For some reason his heart began racing. Funny, that.

Donatien walked forward quickly, bringing his hands to rest on Lothar's shoulders, saying nothing. A flash of confusion, and maybe even fear, crossed Lothar's face, and there was just a bit too much colour in his cheekbones to be the cold. But Lothar didn't know that; he didn't know what was going on, and could barely concentrate on anything other than his slamming heart.

No, that wasn't true. He knew exactly what was going on. He should probably say or do something to stop it... but maybe he didn't really want to. Of course he did. He had never blushed before in his entire life, and now... and –

And then Donatien lowered his head and his lips brushed against Lothar's. It was a feather-light touch, barely a kiss, and Lothar didn't want to think of it as that word, but his body tensed up in response.

Like everything else about him, Donatien's mouth seemed different than that of anyone else Lothar had ever seen. It seemed very large, especially when he smiled, with large bright teeth and big lips. Lothar found himself curious: his own lips were rather small and thin, and he wondered what it would be like to have them engulfed under Donatien's. He leaned in, turned his head a little to find out – then jerked his head away when he realized what he was doing.

Donatien just seemed confused as Lothar stepped away, though surely not as confused as Lothar felt. On the one hand, he was very upset, but there was something else too, another thought in the back of his mind that he wasn't going to address for now. Looking at Donatien's hurt confusion, Lothar wondered, had he relaxed in the other man's arms, even for just that one second? Had Donatien even had time to pick up on his response?

"I'm sorry, I –" Lothar started, trying to pick his words.

"It is okay. I understand." Donatien seemed very genuine, although saddened at the same time.

"I have to go."

"I am sorry." Donatien took a step forward.

"That's fine. I just... have to go." Lothar turned and left, trying not to run. He really couldn't face this. He just had to get back to his room.

He did, and when he arrived there, sooner than he had expected, he ran inside without a second thought, not bothering to talk to anyone, and locked the door.

This was all wrong. Lothar had taken vows to his church to put his faith before all else; he wasn't even allowed to have any such relationship, and Donatien should know that!

Then again, when he thought about it, it may be easier for others to forget about Lothar's position than he'd thought. He didn't exactly uphold all those vows. His people's monks weren't supposed to show violence, despite training to fight, but he had gotten into that bar fight with Felix and the pirates. And Lothar had started that. It was all him. And he shouldn't have been there drinking in the first place. At home, he did charge money for some of the medicines he and Rhea sold, excusing it as the cost it took to make it, yet there was always a little left over – not so when Rhea sold them.

He knew he was a bad person in some ways – wasn't everybody? – but when he thought about it all at once like that, all those little faults suddenly didn't seem so minor. He was getting old; it was too late to just start over. But the worst thing was that he knew he had been very religious once, had upheld all those vows without a second thought, and he wasn't sure where down the line he had lost that. He felt empty without it now.

He was almost angry at Donatien – for his own reaction, which was more than silly. Especially because, as much as he wanted to think it, his upset over the whole affair had nothing to do with his vows.

When had all of this gotten so bad? When had it all gone wrong?

* * *

Their elven guide had mentioned to Felix that the messengers sent to Mt. Duergar should have returned by now, and their worried superiors were sending out another group to find them. Even if they did find them relatively quickly, it would take weeks for them to return, and another group of messengers would not be sent until the people at the city found out what had happened to the first.

"Why are they so paranoid?" Felix asked. He sat with the guide in a living room in the palace quarters they had been given, with only a few caravaners nearby gambling.

"Troubles with another elven nation in the west. They house Dark Ones, and because of that, there have always been bad relations between their king and ours. Our messengers would never have willingly gone into their territory, but... they could have made a mistake." The red-headed elf shrugged.

"We simply cannot wait that long." Felix sighed. "We'll have to chance it and go to Duergar without a message."

"You could bring your own messenger," the guide suggested. "I would come with you."

"Why are you being so helpful?" Felix asked suspiciously, catching the other off guard a little. "Did someone tell you to keep an eye on us?"

The elf leaned back in their chair, brushing aside their long red hair, and grinned. "Perhaps it's... something like that."

"I had thought we were trusted."

"Yes. Trusted so much you were invited right into the palace. With all these guards here to... help and protect you." Felix got a very obvious wink from one silver eye. "We can't just have a bunch of foreigners running around, you see. It would make some of the people nervous –"

"I'm not insulted," Felix interrupted. "A little glad, almost. I was beginning to think the elves were very foolish." And the guide laughed. "So you'll come with us, then?"

"Of course."

* * *

Lothar listened to the news with silence. While he had no real desire to go out in the wild, elven lands, he didn't want to stay here. And he had to protect Rhea.

That was what he told himself anyway. He knew Felix would protect Rhea. And Lothar had even surprised himself in how much he liked the elven city, before...

He glanced over at Donatien – he couldn't help it. They hadn't spoken, and Lothar missed their friendship. Sometimes he almost had the courage to just run up and ask if they could start over and forget about that. But then he wondered if that might hurt Donatien's feelings more. He just didn't know. He wasn't very good with people.

He thought maybe he should give up mulling over it and just ask for advice, until he realized that he had hardly anyone to ask. He couldn't go to Rhea. She had no more experience than him, even if she was better with people, and he didn't want her knowing how incapable he was at handling his problems himself. Dimas barely knew Lothar existed, and hardly registered in his thoughts (although if he had asked, he would have been surprised to find the 16-year-old had plenty of experience in the field). Felix hated Lothar's guts, and it was mutual. Saundra was too close to Donatien; it would be awkward. And he couldn't write home to friends – he hadn't any.

He decided he wanted to deal with it before he left, and found Vieno's rooms that night. He hesitated a second, remembering what had happened the last time he had bothered them this late in their room, then knocked. The door opened to reveal Vieno in plain clothes, just a long white shirt and grey tights. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so. You're not busy are you?"

"Not at all." Vieno opened the door wider and Lothar walked in under Vieno's arm, then stood there awkwardly until he felt their hands push him to sit down on the edge of the bed, the only furniture in the room. It seemed they had removed the chair and end tables to make room for their excessive luggage, including the multi-coloured trunk, two crates, a rack of swords, and about twenty, expensive rolled up carpets. Lothar wasn't sure what was Vieno's and what belonged to the caravan. Vieno sat down next to him.

"I'm having... trouble with a friend. I don't know what to do." He didn't know where to start.

"You're coming to me?"

"I have no one else to go to." He realized how sad that sounded, and how true it was. "You don't mind do you?"

"No. Tell me what's wrong." Lothar paused. "Well, then... who is it? I promise whatever you tell me will stay just between us."

"It's Donatien." Suddenly Vieno grinned, and Lothar blushed for the second time, thinking Vieno probably had some idea of what was going on. "He... kissed me," he managed to choke out, suddenly finding that it was a lot easier to say now that it was just out in the open like that, "and I didn't take it well. I freaked out, and now I think I hurt his feelings. He won't talk to me, and... I don't know what to do to make it better, Vieno."

"Why were you upset in the first place?"

"Well, that's just... I mean, he took me by surprise."

"Ah. So would you ever be interested in Donatien that way?"

"What? No! I, I mean – I mean, no!" He knew he sounded like an idiot. He should stop spluttering like an embarrassed child and stumbling over his sentences. But he knew where this was going.

"Don't get offended. It wasn't supposed to be an insult," Vieno said, a little too calmly. They got up. "Calm down. I'll get us something to drink. You – don't say anything until you can construct a full sentence."

The drink was warm, although Lothar wasn't sure what he thought about the taste. "It's coffee," Vieno explained at his questioning expression. "So you're not interested in Donatien?" Lothar was silent. "Or are you?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure. I can't... deal with this right now." He was shocked he had admitted a possibility he might be interested, but he supposed it was counter-productive to be anything but mature and honest with Vieno, and he thought he recognised the nervousness and fluttering in his chest one heard about in romance ballads whenever Donatien was around, although it wasn't as pretty as the minstrels made it seem. It was more like fear and a heavy, sick feeling in his stomach that made him a little nauseous when he thought about it too much – or maybe that was just him.

"Maybe you should tell Donatien about that."

"But, no, I can't."

"There's no way you can just not face it. That won't work. And I know Donatien won't just ignore it. That doesn't mean he can't be understanding."

"Hmmm." Lothar finished his coffee.


	17. Separation

**Chapter 17 - Separation**

Felix stared blankly at the host of elven scouts putting up camp together. While Rhea and Dimas were still in the elven capitol, she continuing her training with the elderly priestesses and he practising swordsmanship with some of the Quadrin caravaners, Felix and Lothar had joined a scouting party searching for ogres for money.

If they thought the forest they had passed through before had been thick and the trees tall, that was nothing compared to the environment that spanned most of the elven lands. These trees were nothing short of gigantic; it would have taken their whole party of twelve to join hands to wrap their arms around the trunks of many of them, and the sparse leafy branches that grew halfway up a tree had become thick enough here to create the roof above their heads. The light had filtered in, making it a rather light green shade, and rather dim.

Felix jerked at a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Lothar. Lothar smiled at Felix's surprised expression. "I finished securing the tent." He pointed behind him.

"Oh. Thanks." He got up, just wanting to lie down and sleep. Out of politeness, he asked, "Do you need help with anything?"

"Nope. I'm going to get dinner." He left for the large pot of stew in the middle of camp.

Felix considered it, but his stomach lurched at the idea. So he crawled into the bedroll for an early night instead. He was just awake enough to notice when Lothar crept in and settled down beside him. The morning wasn't much better for him, when Lothar turned him over and presented him with a fruit for breakfast, which their elven companions had said would be easier on his stomach than the meat stew.

"Ogre-hunting," Felix muttered to himself, pulling aside some vines that hung in a leafy sheet in front of him. "Fun." He tried using one of the enormous twisty roots as a step up, like the others had, but got a mossy patch and slipped, slamming his hip painfully into the root. "What a horrible way to make money."

Lothar's hands on his shoulders pulled him back up. "We haven't even come across any ogres yet."

"Fighting the trees is hard enough. And there are so many plants here. How are we supposed to fight the ogres if we can't move?"

"Maybe we can climb the trees and shoot them from there." They had both been given bows to use after being told nothing else would be practical, and now they knew why. Felix finally understood why elves were always depicted using bows, even though their blacksmiths were known for their swords. "Except these trees aren't exactly climbable," Lothar noted, slinging his bow back over his shoulder and trekking on after the elves.

The two didn't have long to wait. Once they passed a certain point, ogres started showing up everywhere. They spread themselves out, and were instructed to shoot them from afar.

"Do not attack the chief," one of the elves told them. "If you see one, let others know. We must face chiefs together, because they can crash right through these trees to get you. We must surround them to confuse them."

"Okay," Felix answered.

"This is very important."

"Yeah, no trying to be a hero. We got it," Lothar assured them.

Regular ogres were very rarely problematic, except one time when Felix ran out of arrows, and Lothar took it down before it could club anyone. Then they were called to regroup, and the scout leader pointed to where a giant ogre could be seen, more greenish than the others and conspicuously larger.

"That's one of the chief ogres?" Felix asked.

The elf who could speak with them nodded. "Your positions are there and there," they pointed behind two trees, "and I will be nearby. Do not shoot until the scout leader shoots. And try to shoot when it is not facing you."

They soon figured out the simple strategy that was used to down ogre chieftains. When shot, it would run in the direction of its attacker. If shot from behind, it would then turn. When it ran in circles it tired itself, and when it stood still in confusion it was an easy target. After so much time it collapsed, and it was the scout leader's job to run in and make sure it was dead, often using that thin deadly sword the elves were famous for. This was the most dangerous job, and Felix found himself flinching several times as the leader dodged a tired hand reaching for them.

They spent two weeks in the forestry, only killing the ogre clans and stragglers coming close enough to the capitol to be a threat, and only in a small area. There were dozens of other scouting parties that were out at the same time, and a problem occurred to the two.

"If there are this many ogres here, how many are out there?" Felix asked, gazing in the direction of Duergar.

"And if there are this many ogres, how are we supposed to get to Duergar safely?" Lothar was more worried about Rhea and Dimas than Felix or himself, but he wasn't looking forward to avoiding ogres left and right either.

"I don't know what we're going to do," Felix muttered. "We could always go there on a ship, I suppose."

"No! No ship." Lothar hadn't forgotten his last encounter with ships.

"No, I think a ship is a safer bet. There are less monsters encountered in the oceans than just this forest, and we can just sail away from them if we need to avoid them."

"I got so sick on that ship."

"And I almost drowned," Felix reminded him. "But it's necessary. It would be safer for Dimas and Rhea," he added, knowing it would help.

Lothar sighed, defeated. "I just can't go on that ship again."

"That's okay. Technically you don't need to come if you don't want to."

"So now you don't want my help?"

"Well you're being more of an impediment right now."

"You think Rhea would be okay with this?"

"If you said you wanted her to go on without you, I think she would be okay with it."

"And that's what you want me to tell her?"

"No. I _want_ you to come. But if you won't…"

Lothar sighed, holding his head, which was pounding after a day of climbing, running and shooting. "We can talk more about this later. I've got a headache." He left for their tent.

Felix waited for a few hours to give Lothar some time alone before slipping in, bringing his companion some food to stop him from getting angry. But Lothar just looked tired and sad, and the look of gratitude he gave him looked almost guilty.

"You don't understand," he said after he started eating. "I have to go with Rhea."

"Why? I promise I'll keep her safe." When there was no response, he turned Lothar to face him. "Really. I'll protect her no matter what. If I have to be her living shield to do that, I will, but I swear to you that while I'm alive, no harm will come to your sister."

"But if I leave her in your care, then who will protect her from you?" Felix though Lothar might actually be joking for once.

Felix had never felt so protective of someone before, but Rhea was too old for him to consider anything other than friendship. "I promise to keep my hands off her?" It didn't sound as decisive as he'd like.

Lothar chuckled. "Well, that's reassuring, I guess. But that's not really the problem."

"What then?"

"What… would I do without Rhea? Go back to the shop? I don't want the shop." Felix had no idea what he was talking about; they had a shop? "Go back to the temple? I never liked it there – too boring, even for me. I still have those vows to follow, so it's not like I could just get married. Then again, maybe I only follow my vows as an excuse not to do all the things I'm too scared to do.

"The point is, my family is the only thing I ever had that I actually wanted, and now Rhea is the only family I have left. You can't take her away from me Felix; she's all I have left." His voice broke, but he didn't cry. Lothar wasn't upset about the ship, or about not going on it with her, but more about the reminder that he didn't have to come, he wasn't one of the Light Warriors like Rhea was, which meant that if it wasn't now, then some time down the line he would lose her, and he wasn't ready for it. Felix watched the older man try to compose himself, trying to feel some kind of pity for him. But Felix had never truly liked Lothar, and nothing really came up. In the end, what was best for the Light Warriors, as a group, had to come first.

* * *

"What do you mean, you're not coming?" Rhea looked concerned, and tried to put her arms around her brother.

Lothar held her back. "It's not a big deal A smaller group will be welcomed more easily in Duergar, in all likelihood, and smaller groups travel lighter, more quietly."

"One person isn't going to make a difference!"

"Then think of this. Someone will need to run the shop again sometime. That'll have to be me. You'll have to get used to travelling without me at some point. Better now than when it matters."

"You'll have to come with us anyway. You know, to Melmond."

"I'll go with the caravaners."

"What's the point? I just don't understand what's going on." She was clearly upset, almost in tears, but wouldn't accept any comfort or apologies from him.

In truth, Lothar got violently ill at sea, and unlike some people who got better, the longer he was on the boat, the worse it seemed to get. He wanted to go to the human territories on the western shore of the Aldean Sea by foot and then just ship to Melmond from there. He knew Rhea wouldn't like it, but he also knew she would accept it in the end.

In a way, he was almost glad to see them go when they did. Loki jumped onto the ship last minute, and after a long goodbye with Vieno, Dimas followed to where Felix and Rhea already stood on deck. Lothar stood on the dock, watching. His clothes were noticeably different, even to those who hadn't recognised his style before. He had been devoid of any kind of decoration at all except for a ring with an insignia on it that he had gotten at his ordination. Now he had abandoned the scarf and cloak of the holy colours of purple and white for the brown and off-white cloth and oiled leather that most people travelled in, and all the little rings he had looped around a chain and kept in his pocket as a sort of keepsake were back on his fingers, old bronze and gold things with crests stamped onto the metal or a white piece on the top that was either ivory or some kind of claw or bone. Rhea even noticed the one with the giant green gemstone on it that had used to be his favourite on his middle finger, which the other monks had said was too gaudy and rich, and he had put his gold hoop back in his ear. With his hair growing longer from lack of cutting, Rhea thought it was almost like looking at a younger version of Lothar again, only with more strain in his face.

Rhea knew something was happening with her brother, perhaps something momentous that would change him forever, but she wondered if Lothar even noticed it yet. She had missed the old Lothar after he'd become the quiet and sad person he still was today, after he'd become the strict and religious man he was now. She had still loved him, and if it weren't for his methodical organization and his determination to keep everything running smoothly without mom, they wouldn't have done very well in those first few years. But after a while, she had wanted the old Lothar back, her big brother who was caring for her, not overly defensive of her, who cracked jokes and was everyone's best friend. Seeing him stand there just like that made her heart twist. She smiled. He couldn't not be himself forever. She would pray for him, she decided, that he might be free and happy again, until they finally met again.

* * *

"I'm going to be heading out soon. Going north," Lothar said.

"Toward Duergar?" Donatien asked. Lothar nodded. "Why did you not go with them? It would have been faster."

"I don't like ships."

"Is that all it is?"

Lothar sighed. How did Donatien know him so well after such a short time? "Well, that's the main reason." The other man did not look convinced. "I needed to get away from them."

"Even Rhea?" Lothar nodded. "Why?"

"I feel like I have a job to do when Rhea's around, I have to act like her big brother. I just want to do something different. Not have an adventure, but... well, I guess you could call it that. I'd say trekking through the forests in the Elven Territories is pretty adventurous."

"Really? I would have said stupid."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Donatien."

"And you are going alone, I suppose?"

"Actually, when I'm not worrying about other people, like Rhea, I can take pretty good care of myself."

"I cannot allow this."

"You can't stop me."

"No. But I want to come."

That took Lothar by surprise. "What?"

"I know what it is like to just want to do something different, to be your own man. I have done very silly things just to feel... independent. I was very young then... more than you. I am not against you going – everyone should do it once, have an adventure. But you should not go alone, that would be dangerous."

"It's not a silly idea," Lothar said indignantly.

"Many of your ideas are silly," Donatien assured him, although it didn't sound like it was supposed to be insulting. "I would expect them from a young one, like Dimas. Maybe, so long of acting grown up for your sister, made you not really grow up like everyone else."

Lothar didn't know what to say to that. Donatien put a hand on his shoulder, meant to be comforting, and the memory of the last time had had done that made Lothar's heartbeat race. He glanced shyly up at the other man, wanting to say something to break the awkward silence, staring at those ridiculously dark eyes. "Yeah, I... wouldn't really want to be alone."

"Mm hmm. Should I ask Saundra to come?" He squeezed Lothar's shoulder, his thumb stroking in small warm circles. It was comforting, even as Lothar expected it to get awkward, and he didn't want him to stop. "Anyone who wants to come, I suppose." He wasn't sure he was ready to be alone with Donatien yet.

"Maybe we could ask Vieno."

"Why not?" Lothar muttered. When Donatien loosened his grip, Lothar reached up and held the hand to his shoulder, not wanting him to let go. There was a moment of silence where they just stared at each other, and Lothar quickly let go before it got awkward.

"When do you want to leave?"

"Soon." Donatien nodded, giving him a quick hug and leaving him in his room to sleep.

* * *

Lothar trailed after Vieno as they weaved through the small field where the caravaners had parked themselves, littered with boxes and carriages. They headed for a carriage with red-dyed canvas coverings on the sides. Vieno slid the door open, looked in, then nodded and waved Lothar in before them.

Lothar had heard very little of Akash from the others, but what he had heard had not given him a correct impression. Akash was nothing like he had expected – he had heard he was stern, but funny, a decisive leader and very tough, known to be a good rider and fighter with both the sword and bow, bows being an uncommon weapon in most places other than as a hunting tool and thus an exotic choice of weaponry. Akash looked tough and weather-beaten, but he looked very, very old. Vieno told Lothar later that he was about eighty, and Lothar definitely believed it.

Akash was completely bald, probably due to his age, but he had a grey-streaked black moustache and hairy forearms showing from his rolled up sleeves. He was tanned, and probably naturally dark to begin with, deep wrinkles around his mouth and black eyes. His clothes were well-kept, but worn, with tears stitched and having been obviously re-hemmed at some point by someone with only average skill with a needle at best. His jacket, hung over a chair, was thick and leather, lined with wool, and it appeared it was meant to act as light amour on top of weather-appropriate gear. The furniture in the carriage was plain and practical, secured in place by ropes attached to the walls for the bumpy roads. Lothar had seen the same in Vieno and Donatien and Saundra's carriages.

"What do you want?" Akash asked, squinting his eyes at Vieno. His voice was very loud.

"Maybe I just came to see you," Vieno answered.

"No. You're never here unless you want something."

"I'm leaving for a while. Some weeks."

"Hah! Always leaving when I need you."

"You don't need me."

"We'll be on the road soon."

"I'll need my pay in case we don't regroup soon."

"Ah! That's what it is. Money. Only when you want something. You never just come to see me."

Vieno rolled their eyes. "Such drama! Do you have my money or not?"

"Yes, yes! Not everyone can spend it all as quickly as you."

Vieno frowned. "I'll need Saundra and Donatien's too. They're coming. Unless you want to talk to them yourself."

"No. The only thing I can trust you _not_ to do is steal. Money anyway." Akash got up and went to the safe in the corner. "Young ones hearts though... and their virginities... you can't be trusted with such things!" Vieno coughed awkwardly as Akash handed them a package wrapped in cloth. "Where are the three of you going?"

"North by foot, with this one." Vieno jerked a thumb at Lothar.

Akash squinted at Lothar in his way, which he seemed to do whenever he scrutinised someone closely. "You Vieno's new _friend_? Hmm?"

"What?" There was something strange about how he had said 'friend.'

"You know what I mean. _Friend._" Akash winked. "A little stress-reliever to help Vieno sleep at night."

"Knock it off!" Vieno growled. They glanced sympathetically at Lothar's awkward face.

"Just teasing. Vieno doesn't like teasing," he informed Lothar. "But someone has to tease them. No one else in the caravan does."

"They respect me."

"As they should. They should respect their elders. But I'm the oldest here."

Vieno glared and put the package in the inner pocket of their coat.

"So you two aren't lovers then?" He asked Lothar.

"Uh, no."

"Huh. Strange. You taken then?'

"His love life isn't important. And I don't like the suggestion that I sleep with anything that moves."

"Just anyone unattached. You're like Eyefironse."

"Who's that?" Lothar couldn't help but ask.

"The goddess of beauty, a lady of lust."

"Where are we regrouping?" Vieno asked.

"She lures young ones in with her charms. It is said that no one who lies with her will ever be satisfied with another mortal again."

"Where's the next destination for the caravan?! I need to know where we should go to meet you!" Vieno interrupted.

"The settlements south of Duergar," Akash sighed.

"Perfect. We're going that way. And we'll be going now." Vieno grabbed Lothar's shoulder and stormed out in a huff.

"You don't like Akash?" Lothar noticed.

"You _do_? He's annoying."

Lothar chuckled and pushed Vieno playfully. Vieno glanced at him with a blankly annoyed face and Lothar turned and left for where Saundra and Donatien were getting ready to go, feeling young and childish, and finding he'd missed feeling childish.


	18. Out in the Wilds

Chapter Eighteen: Out in the Wilds

Lothar stayed next to Vieno as the four made their way west. Donatien and Saundra were fanned out to the sides at the moment, looking for ogres or other creatures. Between those two and Lothar, they were always switching around to keep an eye out in all directions. Vieno had offered, but a quick bemused glance between the other three had mutually agreed that Vieno should stay on the little deer paths and old roads they came across. The forest still seemed thickly overgrown with small plants always underfoot, thorny brambles and thistles, and uneven ground. They could tell that Vieno had trouble when there were no paths or roads, though no one wanted to embarrass them by pointing it out. They sometimes used a small broom as a walking stick, and Lothar had sworn he heard noises coming from it once, until Vieno had caught him staring at it and put it away. He wondered if it was the same broom from before.

He had begun to daydream when something shiny caught his eye. He stopped, grabbing Vieno's sleeve to halt them as well, then called out, "Guys, stop for a second!"

The shiny thing came forward a little, and Lothar sighed in relief at the sight of the long purple thing twisting through the ferns. "It's just a snake," Vieno said, loud enough so Donatien and Saundra could hear. "A poisonous one, though. I think we should go around it." They regrouped and went north a little off the road and passed by. Lothar glanced through some branches to the side and saw it stretched out, sunning on a rock in the light.

"Well, it's good you saw that thing," Saundra said, looking in the bag on her side. "I only have a few bottles of standard antidotes."

"I could use magic to clear away any poison, if we ran out," Vieno reminded.

"But even that you can only do so many times, right?" Lothar asked. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. We haven't seen any violent creatures, poisonous or otherwise, all day today, and I'm glad of it."

"To the north!" Donatien suddenly yelled, and their heads snapped to attention.

On the path lay a giant purple thing that looked like a blobby worm. It appeared to be mostly fat, as wide around as Lothar's arms could encircle, and its mouth was large enough that the cavity appeared to be half its body. It seemed that the body could have served no purpose other than as a giant sack in which to store whatever went into the mouth, and Lothar had no idea where it might have been storing its internal organs. Its feet seemed to be nothing more than fatty stubs along its sides, its eyes sat atop long, thin tube things on its top, and its mouth hung agape to drip all over itself. It was hilariously ugly, and Lothar couldn't help chuckling, even at the horrified expressions on everyone else's' faces.

"Why are you guys so freaked out? It looks like a big sock." Vieno and Saundra cracked a smile for a second, but Donatien seemed confused, as he couldn't remember what the word 'sock' meant.

"Once these things see you, they're very persistent," Saundra explained.

"It doesn't look like it can move very fast," he observed.

"Well, it can!"

"More importantly," Vieno added, "ogres tend to keep them as pets. There could be even more of these, or ogre chiefs if we're unlucky."

"We'll just have to keep a close watch for anything," Lothar concluded, walking forward.

"Lothar, no!"

"Don't!"

"It's not even moving," he pointed out. "And we'd hear an ogre coming for miles." He stepped next to the slug and looked over his shoulder at them. "See? Relax." Then Donatien cringed and looked away, Lothar felt something wet drip on his shoulder, and a giant mouth closed over his head.

"I told him not to, that bloody fool," Vieno mumbled to themself, whipping out their sword from its scabbard. Vieno stabbed the creature in the back.

Saundra cried, "Be careful! We don't want to hurt Lothar." She was kicking the creature's belly, but it held fast to its meal.

Donatien spared a moment to hang back as the absurd situation unfolded before him. Lothar's legs hung out of the mouth, but nothing else could be seen. Donatien ran over, took out his dagger, and slashed at the creature's gums. Its mouth opened a little with a whimper, and Donatien pulled Lothar back by a leg. Saundra soon had the other, and they waited for Vieno to pry open its mouth in order to clear away the curved fang which might have scratched Lothar, then pulled him out with a wet sound. He hit the ground with a sticky plop and then Vieno slashed the thing in half. As one would have predicted, it was mostly fat and blood inside, and it looked like quite a mess.

"I'm covered in spit!" Lothar moaned, looking down at himself in disgust, flicking his hands and leaving a spray of saliva on the ground.

"Now you see why I would not let you go alone," Donatien said.

Lothar had nothing to say to that. A rustle behind him made him turn. Another one of those things practically fell from a bush onto the road and lolled around on the ground. "Aaaah!" Lothar stumbled behind Donatien. "Not another one of those creepy things." At that moment, Lothar silently decided that they would officially be called 'creepers'.

"Now you are afraid?" Donatien asked.

"Listen, I can learn a lesson. I don't wanna be eaten." Donatien sighed and pointed his short sword at it.

"An amiable quality," Vieno replied. "Watch this and tell me it doesn't make you smile." Lothar peeked around to see the thing burst into flames, then watched the fire twirl back to Vieno's fingers before dissipating.

"Nice."

The ground shook under the next creature's feet. Lothar was not pleased to see one of the ogres with purple-brown splotchy skin swing out from behind the trees, its knotted hair and few strings of clothes swaying as it grabbed a humongous tree and somehow managed to uproot it. A little creeper rolled by its feet.

It swung the tree once, and the four dropped to the ground to avoid it. Lothar could feel the air whip by over him. Then the tree came straight down towards them. They scattered, Lothar running forward. He found himself facing a huge knee, and when the creeper came closer, he panicked and jumped up, climbing the leg.

The ogre lifted its leg and shook it in an attempt to get him off. The others attacked its other leg to keep it still. When the ogre's hand came for him, he ran from it, around the back where it couldn't reach, then up its back when it bent a little. Finding himself perched on the twisting thing's shoulders, he wondered in horror what he'd done.

It reached up for him, but he hopped to the other shoulder. "You know, you're making it extraordinarily difficult for us to do anything, being up there," Vieno grumbled.

"I'm sorry. As soon as I can find a way down from here, I'll get out of your way."

Vieno lifted their arm and a cloud of what looked like red gas floated up at Lothar. He ducked, then went back and forth in an attempt to avoid it. "Stop dodging it!" Vieno yelled, and he sighed.

"Oh…" He reached his arm into the red cloud, and it suddenly felt jumpy and twitchy. Soon the rest of his body did as well. "Vieno, what the hell is this?" It was getting worse and worse each second.

"Just go with it!" Lothar shrugged and took his opportunity as it bent to run down its back – very fast.

"Ah!" He ran right off its back into midair, and when he reached the ground, the gentle twist that would normally involve just slapping the ground and pushing back up was so fast that he ended up twirling and doing it twice. He was crouched, one knee bent and his hands flat on the ground either side of the foot, the other leg out behind him, and he was breathing in gasps. "Okaynowreally. Whatthehellisthis!" He couldn't seem to stop his words from rushing either.

Vieno's answer was spoken so quickly that Lothar didn't understand. "Sorrywhat?"

"Nothingreally,justasimplefastspell," the words flew out of their mouth. Vieno's voice sounded tired and breathy when it spoke that fast.

Vieno's sword flew through the air. The ogre couldn't keep up with where it was and where it wasn't, and Vieno managed to slash it almost every time. Lothar, on the other hand, found that his mind sometimes couldn't keep up with his body, and could pull no such fancy moves. But he soon got used to a pattern of punches and kicks that he could speed up, and eventually managed to knock one of the ogre's legs out from under it, and it fell over. "Backup!" Vieno yelled, and soon a large, sharp shard of ice fell from the sky and pierced the ogre through. Suddenly anxious, Lothar looked for the last slug thing, but saw that someone had killed it, leaving it slumped against a tree.

"Thatspell'sreallyuseful," he said.

"YeahIknow. Reallywearsyouout,though."

Lothar saw what they meant, feeling a little fatigued the moment he stopped moving. ". Speedupourtrip." The others shrugged and they continued forward at a light jog.

It did cut their trip down some, although the exhaustion afterwards dissipated any ideas Lothar might have had about doing it again. They slept in late, and Lothar felt groggy when he woke up. He felt around his tent with his hands until he found his boots and opened his eyes in a squint, finding the light in the bright tent painful. He pulled on his boots and crawled outside to see it was bright out even with the tall trees, the sun directly above them in the sky and shining straight down. Donatien was there, leaning against the pole on the corner of his tent. He looked over at Lothar and nodded his head in acknowledgement before closing his eyes again and leaning his head back.

Lothar sat cross-legged on the ground next to Donatien and waited until Saundra came out a little later and started wetting and combing her hair to keep it back. Lothar and Donatien eventually went to their respective tents to change and get their things. When they came back out, Saundra was tying her boots and sat on a mat with some food laid out. "When's Vieno getting up?" Lothar shrugged. Saundra glanced over at the last tent and said, "Maybe we should wake them."

"I don't want to disturb them," Lothar said. "They seem to like their privacy."

"It is past noon," Donatien commented.

Lothar sighed. It seemed this was to be his task. He walked over to the tent, pitched under the low-hanging branches of a very large tree, and knelt next to the front. "Vieno?" No answer. "Vieno." After a pause he parted the front as much as he could, then reached in to undo the tie halfway up. That took a few minutes. He parted it wide, and in the light he could see a head of long, wavy silver hair and a bare back and shoulders. The blankets were bunched around Vieno's waist. There were few bags, but their coat and boots took up a lot of the room.

Lothar leaned in and shook Vieno awake, trying to keep his eyes averted from their body. Vieno shifted, grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to cover themself, then peered over their shoulder at Lothar. "Vieno, it's uh… really late. Noon. We were kinda worried about you."

"Sorry," they breathed, sounding as though they'd been kicked in the chest. Vieno grabbed their pipe, which was lying out, and said, "Just give me a minute." They looked totally different than their usual pristine self, with their dishevelled hair, no red coat or hat but just a ratty blanket, and sleepy eyes. Lothar backed out awkwardly, feeling rude.

Vieno joined them after a few minutes, once again in their long coat and high boots. "Sorry, everyone. I'm not used to all this excitement anymore."

"I was tired, too," Saundra admitted. "I slept in quite a lot."

"I did warn you guys that that spell takes a lot out of you," Vieno reminded them. "Maybe I shouldn't have cast it on myself."

When they were done eating, they finished putting all their belongings away and Lothar asked Vieno to give him their tent. "I can carry it," he offered.

"So can I."

"But it'll slow you down."

"No."

"Vieno –"

"Stop babying me! I'm not that old."

"Most people are dead long before they reach your age."

"Not where I come from."

"Look, Vieno, you're old!" Lothar was starting to get annoyed, but he wasn't ready to give up. "Whether you like it or not, you're old, and you're exhausted too. It's a long journey, Vieno. And I'll be damned if you end up fainting or something all because you were too proud to let me carry a bag!"

Vieno's eyebrows drew a little closer together and their eyes looked sharp and steely. "Fine. You want to carry it? Why don't you just carry all my things?"

"I would if you wanted me to," Lothar admitted after a moment.

"Okay, fine." Vieno dropped all their things from their shoulders to the ground with a bang. "Why don't you fashion a stretcher out of my tent and carry me too, since I'm apparently old and infirm?"

"I'm not saying that," Lothar said after a moment, coming forward. "But I figured you were tired because you slept so late, and I don't want you to exhaust yourself more. You're the only one with magic. If anything unexpected happens, we'll need you to be in top form." Vieno shrugged, apparently having given up. "You know, there's no shame in accepting help from someone if you need it."

They sighed. "Whatever you want, then. You can help with my things if you want to. I just don't want to be a burden."

"You're not." He swung an extra bag up over one of his own. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed –"

"Forget it. Let's not waste any more time."

They had passed the mountains to the north of them and had made it to the large mountain pass just a little southwest of the elven capitol. It was all north from here. From the looks of their map, there would be mountains surrounding them for most of their journey, though far apart on both the west and east sides. Everything between was wild, mostly untouched forests. The trees were just as big, the ground just as uneven, and the undergrowth even thicker. Most of their journey through the mountain pass gave them a short respite from the forests at least. But when Lothar stood before it, looking up – for it was an incline – he saw looming mountains on either side, a dangerous rocky slope, all capped by tall brooding tree tops, and felt overwhelmed. As soon as they entered the forest, Lothar became instantly worried they would get lost, and when he turned to look behind him every few minutes, everything was different, the landscape looking both foreign and untouched.

Lothar assumed it was his imagination at first that made everything seem like it was slowly getting darker. Eventually, it seemed like everything that wasn't green was black. Donatien's habit of wearing dark clothes became increasingly frustrating, and Lothar would jump as he appeared to materialize from shadows, or Lothar would walk into him. Lothar looked up, and the interlocking branches banned all sunlight, so that even a little stream of it looked like a glowing blade cutting into his vision, and hurt their eyes.

"Are we lost?" he asked Vieno finally. Saundra and Donatien were nearby, as they were worried they would lose each other else, so he whispered.

"I don't know. We're going north still," they said, holding up their compass. "The problem is that we have to weave back and forth. If we're too far west, we won't meet up with those mountains. We'd eventually come to this river." They pulled out the map and pointed it out, then traced it with their finger. "But see how it runs southwest? If we come to the river, we'll have to backtrack and follow it, which will waste time."

"What is that?" Donatien asked suddenly.

"What's what?" Lothar asked.

Saundra looked at him, seeming mildly surprised. "Don't you hear it? It's like a buzzing."

They waited in silence until Lothar did indeed hear it. "Bugs, I would assume." He looked at his arms, covered in red puffy welts from such things.

"No," Vieno said. "Not bugs. It's horns."

"Doesn't sound like horns," Lothar commented.

"But hear how it's not constant? And it's too loud to be bugs. We would see them if they were that close. And I think I hear a tapping too. Like a soft drum."

"Does that mean it's elves then?" Lothar asked.

Vieno checked the map. "No, I think not. Probably dark elves."

"Same thing." He shrugged.

Vieno grinned. "Not even a little."

* * *

They went as fast as they could during the daytime, and spent the nights with two up and two asleep. Lothar got paranoid whenever he heard the strange buzzing noise as he sat up at night. Despite all their precautions, they never saw anyone, and they didn't change their course.

They had set up their tents beside some trees so close together they formed a curved wall, and had decided they only needed one person up at a time. Lothar sat up at the moment, staring into darkness filled with damp, mossy trunks. A hand on his shoulder made him jump. "Ah! Oh, hi."

Donatien sat next to him. "Sorry. I could not sleep."

"And you decided to come stare at trees with me? That's not what I would choose to do if I couldn't sleep."

Donatien smiled. "I thought maybe we could talk."

"Sure." Lothar sighed. "I feel I should apologize. This whole journey's been more trouble than it's worth."

"Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"I feel like I've put you in unnecessary danger. I should've just taken a ship."

"I thought it made you ill."

"It does."

"I find it nice out here. It looks nothing like home, but it is big and wild, so it reminds me of my home."

"The place with the gold grass?"

Donation nodded. "You would like it there, I think. You seem to like adventure and danger."

"A little bit." But Lothar was already smiling.

"You should come there. I am going back in a few months."

Lothar was slouched a little, fighting off a yawn. "I could maybe see one of those grass-eating things? With the big teeth?"

"You could. I would find one for you." Donatien turned when he felt something against his shoulder and saw Lothar's head rested there. He leaned forward and saw that the younger man's eyes were closed. He shifted his arm behind Lothar's back and decided to finish the night's watch himself.

When Lothar woke up, he was no longer on the log, but on the ground, leaning against it. "I fell asleep?" He looked around groggily.

"It's alright. Donatien kept watch." It was Vieno's voice. He peered over the log to see Vieno with their pipe. He ran to his tent and got himself ready before anybody could say anything. They were all very nice about it, though with rather amused looks on their faces.

That morning, Saundra was very on edge. "That buzzing sound is getting louder. How close do you think they are, Vieno?"

"I don't know. I can't tell."

A few hours later, Lothar was snapped to attention by the sounds of two screams. He would have run ahead, but Vieno grabbed his arm. "Proceed with a little caution," they whispered. They drew their sword and went around instead of straight. Lothar did too, on the other side, but he hurried.

Leaning around the tree, he whispered, "Are you guys okay?"

Saundra nodded and looked back at the arrow Donatien was examining. It was buried deep into a tree. "It came from that way," Saundra said, pointing west.

"Maybe we should hurry. Try to miss them," Lothar suggested.

"We've been hearing them for days," Vieno pointed out. "They're probably following us. And I don't think this was an accident." They tapped the arrow. "But if we go back, we run the risk of being surrounded."

"We run, then?" Donatien asked.

Lothar was tempted to say something in protest, but just jumped into the bushes.

* * *

After so long in the forest, the glow of light seemed incredibly bright. There was a break in the trees, and an orange evening light filtered in towards them. They headed forward cautiously. A large, clear lake stretched before them, and Lothar had the urge to jump in right away.

"I guess this means we missed those mountains?" Lothar asked, seeing the river far off to the northeast. Vieno nodded.

"We can't put our things right in the open," Vieno pointed out, eyeing the space between them and the lake, flat and bare of trees. "But I'd like to stay by the lake."

Lothar nodded. He spotted a patch of trees that ended near the lake, but before he pointed it out, Saundra did. "What about right here?" She dropped her things.

Vieno left with a basket to go foraging (and have some private time, Lothar guessed, though they hadn't seemed particularly bothered by the close quarters everyone shared), and Saundra decided to swim early, leaving Lothar and Donatien at the camp to guard against dark elves and ogres.

Lothar was curled up against a tree root, lost in thought. He'd been avoiding thinking about what had happened between them a few weeks ago, but with just him and Donatien alone together for a few hours, sitting in silence, it was hard not to. He remembered all the awkwardness, and his worry that he'd offended Donatien somehow. But even more troubling had been all the confusing feelings that had rushed into his head the moment Donatien had leaned towards him.

He'd been so curious as to how that kiss would feel, and taste. But then again, he'd never been in a serious relationship, and he hadn't kissed someone in decades. Maybe it was understandable that he'd be so nervous… and excited. He glanced over at the man in question. He'd been surprised at first that he wasn't very bothered by it.

Donatien was good-looking, he decided. He was tall and muscular, with good skin and a gentle expression, and he had beautiful eyes. Lothar didn't think anyone would ever feel disgusted at being kissed by someone who looked like that. And it wasn't strange for him to notice, was it? Lothar was pretty sure it was alright for a man to admire the beauty of another man. It didn't mean anything.

He sighed. He was thinking about it too much, and he was starting to think strange thoughts to himself. The last thing he wanted was to imagine Donatien kissing him again. "Oh good gods…" he muttered, feeling uncomfortable with himself. He jumped up quickly, earning a curious glance from Donatien, and went to his tent quietly. Then he folded his legs and sat on the ground, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind with his old meditative prayers.

For the first time in his life, it failed him. He couldn't block out the thoughts of Donatien's strong hands on his arms and his lips brushing softly against Lothar's. His face bright red, he leaned back with a huff and crossed his arms. He almost felt bad now for cuffing young boys on the ears when they couldn't concentrate for thinking on girls. He was angry with himself the moment he thought it. That was totally different! And they were young boys; he shouldn't be thinking like that at his age.

He shouldn't be thinking like that at all. He could only imagine what Elder Makoya would say if he had any idea what kinds of things were going through Lothar's head. Probably that he should spend a month or so in the Rencorejah Temple. He gave a sigh that felt like it deflated his entire body, and resigned himself to giving up for now. He could think whatever he wanted. It didn't matter so long as he didn't act on it, right?

He peeked out of his tent before leaving, skirting around Donatien slowly. He was still a little shy around him, and worried about silly things. What if he was obvious? He had never been very subtle.

Vieno came back and tossed the basket to the ground. "I'm going to make dinner tonight. Why don't you guys go bathe? Saundra's done, she's just hanging some things to dry."

Donatien shrugged and lifted himself slowly, looking tired. "Are you coming?" He turned to Lothar.

"Uh…" Lothar walked closer to Vieno and whispered, "What are you doing?" He knew they would understand what he was talking about, since he knew they would only do this on purpose.

"Payback for all the little things you do that bother me," they said with a grin. "Or maybe I'm helping you. It's all in how you interpret it."

"I'm not going."

"If you don't, he'll think you're avoiding him."

"You don't know that."

"You don't know he won't. And you have been, sort of. That's hard to do, considering the space constraints in that forest."

"No I haven't."

Vieno chuckled knowingly, and Lothar felt thoroughly embarrassed, suddenly wishing he hadn't divulged his confusion to them over their travels. "Okay, Lothar. Just like you aren't hopelessly attracted to him, right?"

"I am not."

Vieno's surprised grin said it all. "Then why won't you go bathing with him?"

"Because that's weird."

"Guys do it all the time. It's not awkward. Unless of course, you… have some confused feelings for one of them or something." They laughed outright.

"Oh, for fuck's sakes." He knew they were goading him, and he was angry at himself for letting it get to him. But he thought bathing with the other man was better than staying for Vieno's verbal lambasting, and he grabbed a blanket and followed Donatien to the lake.

He did his best not to look while Donatien stripped and draped his clothes over a branch. He turned for a second, while untying the headband he used to keep his hair back, and froze. He could only hope Donatien wouldn't turn towards him while he was looking, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. Donatien's body rippled with smooth muscles, so dark it shone like polished black stone, and he was very tall. Lothar had already guessed what the man would look like, but seeing it was different. He turned quickly and his eyes dropped to the ground as he pulled away the headband.

It was kind of silly to compare himself to Donatien, since no one would be seeing him naked anyway, but he still felt disappointed to see just how inferior he was in comparison. He was almost embarrassed to undress in case Donatien saw him. He had been a lot better looking when he was younger, but he didn't really like how he looked now. Donatien was a few years older than him, in his late forties, but he still looked great.

He instantly berated himself for thinking stupid thoughts again, tossed his clothes over another branch, and followed Donatien to the water. He swam around for a while, and made sure not to look directly at Donatien as he submerged into the water and began to scrub away dirt and dust.

When they returned, Lothar collapsed on a mat next to the fire looking dejected. Vieno gave them very strict instructions to stay away from the lake while they went to wash, and everyone nodded absent-mindedly. They weren't gone long, and when they returned, the four ate and went to sleep soon after.

Except Lothar. He couldn't sleep. There was no noise; he wasn't used to being so far away from people when he slept. Their family had always had a one-room house, and when they moved to the Melmond temple, they had slept in one-room bedrooms where the orphans stayed, with all the boys in one room, and the girls in another. Then he and Rhea had a small house, and he could sometimes hear Rhea up at night while he was trying to sleep, since he went to bed much earlier than her. But there was too much room near this lake, and they had pitched their tents far apart. There was no shifting blankets, smooth breathing, coughing, walking, not even the sounds of bugs or animals.

That was kind of weird, wasn't it? No bugs. Lothar sat up, feeling on edge. He opened his tent and stuck his head and shoulders out, looking back and forth around the camp site. It was dreadfully quiet, and nothing moved. One thing shifted and gave him a fright, until he saw it was simply some grass swaying in a breeze.

He should have felt calmer, perhaps, but he didn't. He was tempted to go get someone, but he thought that was silly. He was just leaning in to go back to sleep, when he felt a searing pain in his right leg.

His yell brought some movement to where he thought Saundra was on lookout, but he wasn't paying attention. A black arrow was embedded into his leg, the head barely visible. He backed up into his tent, though it wasn't necessarily safer, and flattened his leg, pulling it out painfully in case it was poisoned. He fumbled in the dark through his things, ripping a corner off one of his sheets and wadding the thin fabric over the wound, then pulling his headband from his head and tying it around it.

There was noise coming from outside, so he ran out, far away from his tent, and he hoped anyone nearby, then turned. Saundra, dressed in a loose shirt and pants, no armour, snapped her wrist, flicking some blood off her blade. She then brought it up in a diagonal arc, slashing someone across the chest, and catching another in the throat. The people roaming around their camp site had skin black as the sky and their eyes glinted like little lights. The eyes looked white, and their clothes were minimal, mostly leather and beads, and all coloured black.

One of them caught sight of him and ran at him. Its ears had the tips sliced off, and dirty rags stained by what looked like dried blood were tied around some of its face and arms. Lothar brought his arms up, leaning back and trying not to put too much pressure on his injured leg. It brought down its short sword, and he jumped to the side with his good leg, landing a heavy punch to its jaw. He landed on his injured right leg and it gave out beneath him. He tumbled to the ground, rolled, sat up clutching the sore spot on his thigh and glanced over his shoulder in time to see a blade coming down for him again.

Lothar grabbed a heavy branch from the ground and blocked the sword with it. It held momentarily, but after a second of the elf leaning its weight on its sword, the branch shattered, spraying splinters over his head and shoulders. He kicked out at the elf's feet and knocked it over, then stumbled up into a run.

Donatien was dragged out of his tent by one of the elves, but pulled his leg back and kicked them in the face. He reached in for his sword and held it out, and the nearby assailants crouched back and hissed in anger.

He very nearly attacked one when Saundra yelled out, "Don't Don! Wait!" Donatien and Lothar, who had grabbed a random object from the ground and was creeping up on one of the elves, turned to see Vieno with a bloodied forehead and their hands tied behind their back. The three froze, unsure of what to do, and afraid to provoke them. Then the two elves holding Vieno were smacked in the face by the floating broom – Donatien and Saundra stared bug-eyed, as they had not yet been introduced to the broom. Vieno strained their hands apart as they directed their fire magic to burn the ropes around their wrists.

Lothar smashed an elf over the head when he saw Vieno was safe for the moment, and Saundra and Donatien leapt into action. More and more elves crept in from the shadows at the edge of the camp, and they were forced together by the tent. Vieno finally shrugged off their bindings and stood stiffly, leaning on Saundra when she offered, and they backed up until the four were in a small circle, staring outwards at the elves, the broom swishing madly in front of Vieno, but looking rather unintimidating, despite all its efforts. Lothar bumped into Donatien as the older man held out his sword before him, attempting to cover them both. Lothar gave him a half-hearted smile and whispered, "Now what?"

The dark elf before him had its eyes covered by a tight bloody rag, and Lothar had the impression that its eyes had been cut out. It held its arm up and pointed its short sword at them. Lothar backed up a little further behind Donatien's blade, and then froze as a large, steel grey wolf leapt up and connected with the elf's face. The wolf brought it down, lifted one heavy paw, and with a well aimed slash, brought the elf leader to its end. Other gray wolves rushed around them, driving off elves and tearing out throats, biting arms, and ripping open backs. The campsite soon looked like a massacre, and the four cringed back as the wolves slowly circled them.

Then one jumped forward and barked at them. When they jumped back, the wolf did it again, and others soon followed. They eventually had wolves flanking them on both sides, and they were clearly being herded somewhere. Vieno tripped and fell to their knees. When Don stopped to help them up, one of the large wolves jumped between them and snarled at Donatien. He stopped and looked at Vieno. They waved him on, and he went back to Lothar and Saundra. When Lothar looked back, he saw three wolves had stayed behind with Vieno, surrounding them as they got up, and hoped Vieno would be able to protect themself if the wolves attacked them.

After a night of travelling along the lakeside, they continued straight north. The wolves would stop from time to time, but they kept going at a rather constant pace for four days. They drank at small streams they came across, but there wasn't much to eat on the way, and their captors didn't seem particularly worried. When Donatien tried to run off, three large wolves pinned him down, and one of them gnawed at his arm until he dropped his sword. Lothar had reached for it, only to have his hand snapped at. His arm jerked back reflexively, and then the wolves pushed him away, and he didn't see the sword again. Donatien's arm bled heavily until Saundra used some of her shirt to bind it, and it became red and swollen underneath. Lothar's leg soon hurt as well, and he developed a heavy limp. Donatien had caught him when he first fell, and Saundra soon had him propped on her shoulder. They didn't see Vieno in those four days, and Saundra finally sighed. "What do you think's going to happen to us?"

Lothar didn't attempt a guess.

Eventually they came to a large open area of grassy plains. It was almost unnerving to be in the wide open after so much time spent with the forest seemingly crushing in on them. The wolves growled fiercely at them, seeming to know that they would attempt an escape in the open. Saundra got a close call with a snap to her leg, and Lothar's leg got knocked by one of the taller wolves; the pain didn't help him with his balance. "Guys, look," Saundra commented, after a few hours. It was early dawn, and there was a heavy fog, but it looked like there was a large structure before them.

As they drew closer, it looked like an old abandoned keep, with old-fashioned towers and battlements, and crumbling stones and mortar on the east side. However, it seemed to be in too good condition when they were led inside for it to have been abandoned for very long. The Warg wolves, as Donatien had said they were called, scattered as soon as they were within the grounds, and the heavy stone doors swung closed with a clang. Lothar turned in surprise to see who was behind them, but then dropped to his knees in pain as he jerked his wounded leg, and felt blood seep through his cotton pants again. No one was there.

Donatien and Saundra both helped him up, and were getting him steady when they heard what sounded like footsteps behind them, back where they had faced before. They turned, Lothar being sure to be slow this time, to see a very tall person standing before them. They were dressed in silks of the richest colours from the rarest dyes, and gems appeared to be set into their clothes. A large, heavy red cape hung from their shoulders, lined in white fur, and their clothes consisted of mainly red, purple and gold. A gold mask covered their face, with only small holes for the eyes, and the mask shone in the dim lighting, covered in intricate carvings and marks that looked like ancient writing and images of animals and leaves in relief. Some gems were set along the top, but it was mostly plain, yet the most striking part of their appearance. A large wolf with long, soft silky grey fur sat loyally by their side as they stopped and appeared to appraise the three.

They held out one hand, covered in a long, silky gold glove, and titled their head. "You seem tired. Come… and rest."


End file.
